


Why Don't We Try?

by writesaboutbands



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Anxiety, Concerts, Eating Disorders, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Self-Harm, So does Louis, harry wants to be a singer, lots of talk of music
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-10 21:23:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 23,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writesaboutbands/pseuds/writesaboutbands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis are both dealing with some personal shit when they meet at a concert, but they still manage to become friends.<br/>OR<br/>H/L are sad for different reasons and they kinda become less sad by talking about music and maybe kissing idk</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Why I Stare

There are a lot more people here than Louis thought there would be. This always happens when he goes to a venue for the first time, he assumed it would be a fairly intimate gig given the band he’s seeing but their fanbase seems to have grown since the last time he saw them. Louis always gets mixed feelings when his small town bands get a following because obviously they wouldn’t want to play for 50 people and never grow but some bands just suit the indie crowd, he thinks. Indie is a term he doesn’t usually use because like any music enthusiast, he doesn’t think it should be a genre. Anyway, this crowd is huge and he didn’t get off work until late so there’s no chance he’ll be as close to the stage as he’d like to be, so he does what he always resorts to: standing at the back and kidding himself that watching from afar lets him experience the entire concert atmosphere.

 

Once the main band comes on, the crowd goes absolutely wild as expected. He feels himself begin to be pushed forward until he’s immersed in the sweaty, dancing crowd. Most of the people around him are noticeably drunk and could get rowdy during the fast-paced songs so yeah, he’s beginning to worry. He tries to focus on the band and enjoy himself because that’s why he came, isn’t it? They’re playing his favourite slow song and he’s content. Everyone is swaying to the beat and he can handle this.

 

Soon he begins to get panicky. He shouldn’t have come all by himself, he needs somebody to stand behind him and make sure nobody gets too close. He hates that his place of safety – concerts – has recently become a place of discomfort. He can’t stand people pushing him, they’re all so much taller and Louis just wants to see the stage. For once, he’d like to see the performance instead of looking down at his feet to keep them planted. He really needs to try and get to the back of the venue again, he likes it there. 

 

Once he starts pushing, people start pushing harder. He’s still enjoying the live music but his ears are ringing and he’s having trouble keeping my breathing steady.

 

“Shit,” he exclaims. His camera fell to the ground. What the fuck is he supposed to do? If he crouches down he’ll never be able to get back up, people won’t see him there. But he can’t leave it! He can’t afford a new one and he hates having to take concert pictures using his phone camera. Maybe if he just tells the guy standing beside him to watch out while he picks it up? He’s quite tall, actually. The boy. What Louis would give to be tall. Heck, what he’d give to be a little above average. The boy can clearly see a full view of the stage, he’s the kind of person Louis is always stuck standing behind but never asks to move out of the way. He doesn’t want the pity. 

 

He decides to bite the bullet and ask for help, reluctantly. The boy sees him pointing at the ground and immediately bends down and retrieves the camera, placing it in the shorter boy’s hands.

 

“Oh, you didn’t have to get it I meant don’t trample me,” he’s not sure if the other boy can hear him as a song just ended, causing a lot of cheering. The boy just smiles and gives him a thumbs up before turning to face the stage again.

 

OK, so he’s really adorable. Louis is feeling a little calmer just seeing him smile. Those dimples must be deeper than the Marianas Trench and the smile looked so genuine. How he did that, Louis wonders. Why do boys that don’t want him always have to be so cute?

 

Everyone around him has started jumping up and down, something he likes the idea of, but he can never time properly and with everyone being taller, he ends up a bit squished, so he kinda stand on his tip-toes and bounces for the illusion of a jump. 

 

All of a sudden it is too much. His toes are being stepped on and there are arms everywhere and he really needs to be in an area that is much less populated. Everyone is moving so violently and he can’t understand how they are not out of breath, like he is.

 

Now that he thinks about it, Louis is really having trouble breathing. He needs to calm down. He tries to leans forward a bit to get his bearings but he ends up bumping into the tall boy, who turns around first looking annoyed, and then his expression changes to something Louis can’t pinpoint. Louis is shaking and sweating so he hopes the tall one doesn’t think he’s crazy.

 

“Mate, are you alright? You look like you’re gonna be ill.” Concern maybe? Louis can’t fully read his expression because his vision has gone a tad blurry. Is he crying? Why is he crying?

“Mate, seriously. Let’s get you out of this crowd. What’s going on?” Tall One says as he points towards the bar at the back of the venue.

Louis looks back and tries to start walking out when he notices an arm on his back, guiding him. Is the tall one following him? He thinks he hears him shout at the people around them to please move. They all move. How did he do that? Whenever Louis attempts to part a crowd they don’t even look at him. 

 

Once they’re in the clear, the boy finds a chair and gestures for Louis to sit on it, which he gladly does. He’s still a bit jumpy but getting out into a spot where there’s more air has helped a lot.

 

“Thanks for getting everyone to move, never seem to be able to get people to pay attention to me,” Louis confesses.

“Can’t imagine why, can’t they see that you’re struggling? I mean, some people can be so ignorant,” he spits.

“That’s life.”

The taller one frowns at that, though Louis expects he has never had this problem. With his height and his clear ability to command a room, he’s lucky.

“You should get back into the crowd, wouldn’t want your friends al alone. Thanks again though.”

“No, I’m here alone, it’s fine. I wanna make sure you’re okay, and that you stay okay. You looked a right state when I turned around just then.” He sounds genuinely concerned about Louis’ well-being, little does he know the shortness of breath Louis is experiencing isn’t just from the crowd anymore, it’s because of him.

“Oh I just get anxious when people start pushing. I like to either be right up at the stage or at the back of the crowd. I didn’t mean to be in the middle like that so I lost my breath. It’s stupid. You don’t have to stay,” Louis says quickly. He hates admitting that he gets nervous in crowds, he’s such a baby.

“Hey, it’s not stupid. Do you want to sit back here for the rest? I saw the setlist and there are a few more upbeat songs. Watching the crowd is much better than being in it, I think. I like people-watching.” He’s so full of it, he must be. Nobody actually likes being so far from the action.

“Well, I’d rather watch the band but yeah, I think I’ll stay here,”

Because really, Louis is okay with it. He’s had enough of this crowd and he’s ready to just listen to the music now that he can focus.

“Do you mind if I sit here too? Or I could go back and get your friends and tell them where you are..”

“I came alone too, pal. But if you’d really like to stay you can, I don’t control you, I’m being a party pooper so I don’t see why you’d want to sit with me but—“

“I’d love to sit here with you,” he replies right away, leaning in closer so he doesn’t have to yell, “so what’s your favourite song?”

Why he’s making conversation after Louis just made a fool of himself is strange. He’s smiling way too widely for his liking.

 

“It’s Atlas, as common as that may be.” He doesn’t feel the need to tell him why, this stranger doesn’t need to know his life story – not yet.

The stranger nods and then faces forward for a second before turning back to Louis and saying, “I Like You.”

“Pardon?” Louis chokes out.

“Sorry, the song. That one’s my favourite. If you were wondering. Sorry, you didn’t ask.” He says slowly, blushing.

“That’s good then, they’ll probably play that one.” He’s just trying to act like he didn’t think for a second that the pretty stranger meant that he actually liked Louis. He most likely doesn’t.

“I hope so. I’m probably distracting you, some weirdo chatting your ear off while a gig is going on.”

Truth is, Louis hasn’t complained because he likes the sound of this boy’s voice. He knows he should let him go before he gets attached but he just can’t let him go.  
“I’ll shut up,” he says after Louis forgets to respond.

 

For the rest of the show he tries to take some decent pictures, crowd shots and the like. When the band plays Atlas the tall stranger pokes him on the shoulder and smiles. He almost melts, but he keeps himself under control. He can’t just swoon over some guy he barely knows. Louis tries to be nonchalant and reaches over to poke the boy’s shoulder, mimicking him. They keep looking at each other and singing the lyrics dramatically like a couple of idiot friends. 

 

When the show is over Louis hangs back for a while until most people have cleared out before leaving his seat. The tall boy trails behind him as he makes his way towards the exit.

 

“So, did you have fun? You’d probably rather have danced around a bit or something, right?” The shorter one says, trying to joke.

“I can’t dance. I just stand there and nod my head along. Plus, I’m taller than most people so I always feel like I’m annoying, blocking the stage. I don’t know. I liked sitting,” the dimpled one replies with a smile. Louis could swear he hasn’t let that smile fall all evening.

“Oh, well me too. But not about the tall thing.” Louis tries to laugh but it comes out sounding pathetic. He must not fully be over the panic attack he has earlier and he hopes to other boy doesn’t notice.

“You still seem a little on edge,” guess it was obvious, “you sure you’re fine?”

“Yeah um, it happens sometimes. More than I’d like it to but whatever.”

They’re on the sidewalk now, Louis assumes they’ll part ways.

“I guess thanks for helping me out, I’m going this way so,” he says, pointing in the directions of the subway station he needs to get to.

“Me too! By the way, my name’s Harry. Don’t think I mentioned that. Yeah, I’m Harry. The tall, uncoordinated boy that goes to concerts by himself,” he says, curtsying.

“Well, I’m Louis, the short, tubby kid that also goes to concerts by himself. And sometimes forgets how to breathe and has to get escorted to safety by the tall, uncoordinated boy,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets and wishing, still, that it hadn’t happened like that.

“Not sure what you mean by tubby, but hi Louis.” He looks directly at Louis and Louis tries to avoid his gaze so the taller boy can’t unravel him.

“Oops, you’ve been fooled by an educated choice in clothing. Are you going to the subway station?” Louis really wants to be alone now, Harry obviously noticed his chub but is choosing to be nice because he’ll probably never see Louis’ sad excuse for a being ever again.

“No, I’m taking the street car. Do you think maybe we could hang out sometime? I can give you my Twitter or Tumblr if you don’t wanna give a stranger your phone number but if you do that’s cool. I don’t mean to come off so strong. I’m such an idiots I’ll just go catch my bus. Hope you have a nice night, Louis,” Harry runs his words on and on and it reminds Louis of himself. This has never happened to him before. He’s never even interacted with someone he could possibly be attracted to for more than 3 seconds. He’s too scared to make the first move. Harry seems scared too, almost like he’s forcing himself to say something in fear that he’ll regret keeping quiet.

“You’re not an idiot,” Louis says honestly. They keep walking for a while in silence and the subway station is in view now, they’ll approach it in a minute and Louis has decided he’ll give Harry a go.

“I think I could definitely give you my phone number. My blog is not something I share with people I’ve actually met to be honest,” he says. He has no idea why he even told Harry he had a blog, whenever he’s done that in the past the other person has insisted on seeing it. It is truly just dumb text posts and reblogged pictures of bands and pretty scenery. He gives Harry His phone number.

“Okay so I’ll text you, so you have my number. One rule though: don’t call me. Not that I think you’d want to call me, we’ve only just met, but don’t call me. I get all weird on the phone and don’t know what to say. I just mumble. And in return, I’ll never call you.” Again Harry is stumbling over his words.

“That is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. Thank goodness, I hate talking on the phone. I was afraid you’d be the kind of person that would chat for hours about your feelings and just enjoy hering the other person’s voice. I’m glad you don’t. Here is my stop, I’ve gotta get going.” He feels weird talking to this boy, he seems so nice yet so unsure of himself. Louis assumes he’ll wake up tomorrow morning and realize how annoying he was and never text him but he’s okay with that. Tonight was fun.

 

“Alright, have a safe trip. Text me when you get home so I know you actually made it.”

 

He’s treating Louis as if he’s some fragile being. It’s almost like he knows what has been going on inside his head lately. There’s no way he could, but it’s making Louis uneasy. Nobody needs to know how messed up he really is.

 

“Um alright?”

“I make all my friends do that. I get anxious; I just like to know that everyone is safe. I don’t know if we’re friends yet but that’s what I do,” Harry replies, blushing again.

Damn, Louis thinks. Why is this boy so sweet? Nobody that sweet needs a Louis in their life.


	2. I Wish I Was

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look here, I'm back so soon

Harry spends the entire ride to his shitty apartment going over the entire night in his head. He can’t believe he actually worked up the nerve to talk to the boy standing behind him. He doesn’t know what came over him but when Harry saw Louis nearly crying he felt the need to comfort him. He thinks maybe it’s because he can relate to what was happening, breaking down. Harry may not do it in front of other people because he can’t bear to put that worry on them, but in the private of his apartment, his room, his bed, he comes apart. Louis looked so helpless and Harry’s been there, and he knows it sucks, how could he let it happen to someone else? He may not have been having the same exact problems as Harry but there was no second thought, he has to calm the other down. It’s what he’d want someone to do for him, not that anyone could.

 

Louis was so sweet and small and even though he looked a bit rough after the initial panic, Harry could tell he would look wonderful when he was happy again. He didn’t want to leave Louis’ side, he felt like he physically could not walk away from him. Harry had always dreamed of meeting the love of his life at a concert but it was just that: a dream. He knows he’s probably thinking way too far ahead of himself but he has an inkling that Louis will be good for him, if he stays. Well, if the shorter boy ever texts him. Harry is worried he came off too strong, though Louis said it was alright, he may have been smothering him.

 

Never in his life has Harry been so bold when it comes to meeting people, cute boys in particular being his downfall. Must have been the music, the setting, something came over him in that moment. Something gave Harry the confidence he usually lacks and he has had his first good night in a long while. 

 

Harry steps into his place and goes to work making tea to soothe his sore throat because he might have screamed along to the entire set – when he wasn’t making small talk with Louis – and at 19, he’s getting too old for that.

**Home James – Louis**

The text came quicker than Harry ever could have expected. To be fair, he never thought it would come so a text at all is a huge surprise. This also means that the boy doesn’t live too much father from the venue than he does, so maybe if Louis continues to be friendly the possibility of the two of them meeting up isn’t so slim.

_Already forgotten my name? P.S. glad you’re safe + sound. Sleep?_

Harry is the worst at texting. It’s a fact, he never knows what to say so sometimes he tries to be funny but overthinking gets in the way. He doesn’t have much experience because of his miniscule group of friends that don’t text him unless they have major news or want to hang out. Harry would never blame them for not texting more often, he knows he’s shit and forgets to answer and doesn’t want to start conversations. In conclusion: he sucks.

**Once I’m done this tea, I swear. Too much yelling. Can never sleep properly after a show, tbh.**

_Can I let you in on a secret? I really love shows because I’d love to someday be the one on stage, singing. Too shy. Also drinking tea._

Harry wonders why this new person makes him feel so safe. He never tells people his real thoughts and nobody ever asks or seems interested. But all of a sudden he’s spilling his guts to Louis after only knowing him a few hours. He isn’t under the impression that he actually can sing, but to pass the time he writes down his feelings. Usually the bad ones.

**Secret time for me too! I love singing but also too scared, too many eyes.**

Harry doesn’t know how to respond other than saying that he wants to offer the boy a hug. It’s late and he’s lonely again, listening to sad music. All he’s wished for lately is to have someone up when he is, texting him to keep him sane. Does he have that now? Louis can’t possibly be as invested as he is, Harry thinks. He just wants to keep talking to him forever and not have to face real life. He wants Louis to be his real life. He would like that, surely. But would Louis? There are parts of real life Harry that he’s not proud of and would never want the other boy to see.

_Gabrielle Aplin making my eyes close, have a nice sleep if you can & P.S. my eyes would enjoy seeing you up on a stage._

A few minutes later, after reading the text over and realising how it could have been interpreted he quickly adds;

_In the most innocent of ways, noticed the double meaning just now. Seriously going to lay down._

When Harry wakes up the next morning, the first thing he thinks is ouch, he must have slept funny. 

 

Now he’s in his small kitchen listening to a ‘chill’ playlist he found online a few days before. He has tried to make his own mixes but he can never find the right songs so he downloads playlists made by other people. It has led him to many a new favourite bands so he’s thankful for Tumblr and it’s endless supply of anything anyone could ever want.  
His mind wanders as he waits for his toast to pop, he wonders if Louis is up yet, he wonders if he’s about to eat breakfast too. Harry has to work later on and that is not something he’s looking forward to. See, he has a nice job at a chain bookstore and the people are great, he just wishes he wasn’t doing something that he considers temporary, something he’d only do until something better came along. That’s life as a student, or at least that’s what his mum has been telling him over and over since he got his first job at 17, “you can’t expect to have your dream job if you’re still a child.” 

 

If he was better at music he could be doing that instead but he’s not so he chats idly for up to 40 hours a week with people that have no interest in his life or his passions. It’s fine.  
After work he has nothing better to do so he takes the book he’s currently reading out to the fire escape/balcony that is the best thing going for his apartment. He spends most nights out there either reading or downloading new music, the main 2 things that get him excited.

 

Louis didn’t text Harry yet, and out here in the fresh air, he supposes it was nice while it lasted. It was almost like a one-night stand, or the closest he’ll ever get to a one-night stand. He’s feeling a bit down, a mixture of that lost, post-concert feeling and the ever-present lost boy syndrome. He’s dramatic; he can bet a few people his age also have no idea where they are going, even some adults are lost, right? Harry just feels it a little more deeply, he feels everything too much and he can’t help it. He’s sensitive. And emotional. And undeniably, simple, lost. So lost that sometimes he loses even his mind, loses his willpower and does stupid things, like cutting his skin open. As if that will somehow wake him up from this trance and tell him what to do.

 

He knows what he wants. He knows what he’d absolutely love to do, but he also knows that facts. And the facts show that his abilities don’t match his goals. The Things I Can’t list is much longer than the Things I Can and it always will be. So one day he added cutting to his list of Things I Can because he can cut to rid his mind of the Can’ts. Can’t sing, can’t socialize, can’t figure out why he’s in university studying something he doesn’t even care about, can’t make his mum proud, can’t afford to live where he wants, can’t knit.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**You message was magic, only took me 2 hours to go unconscious!**

The message comes in as Harry is catching up on YouTube videos that were uploaded while he was out. Instantaneously his mood has switched. He can’t say that all the clouds have buggered off but he would describe it as more of a “cloudy with sunny periods” instead of full-on dreary skies.

**I’m not being sarcastic. Doesn’t come across on text but it usually takes longer to go. How’s your day been?**

_That’s tough, I just worked and read and stuff. Idk. Boring. What did you do??_

Harry wishes he had something more interesting to tell him, if only he was actually doing something with his life. The highlights of his summer so far have been the handful of gigs he’s seen, especially the most recent. He doesn’t know when his life got so dull, he loves live music and it is his favourite thing in the world, but he needs a steadier amount of human interaction.

**Slept on and off til now. Apparently I was tired! I’m so lazy. What’s work like?**

_Living the dream, not lazy!_

Harry would rather not talk about work, it gets him all frustrated and sad and crap and he doesn’t want his new friend to be turned off by all his so-called problems. He wants to keep the conversation away, so he sends another text.

_Think we could hang out proper? Maybe get food, been dying for a Chipotle. Unless you’re busy or this is weird or whatever._

**Movie? I’m itching to see Kick Ass 2. Halfway theatre?**

_Course, when do you? I live on the East side so,_

**Mountain good for you? Plays at midnight. Or we could go another day, you might not be nocturnal.**

_Mountain is close, will be there. Nice choice of movie by the way!!_

**I’ll be the kettle, short and stout and whistling from the top of the stairs.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought please and thanks xo (also i know kick ass 2 is old news but i wrote this in september)


	3. Addict With A Pen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after revising this one it's incredibly short but it doesn't fit to add it onto the next chapter and i don't wanna confuse people by adding it the the previous chapter so here's like 500 words to tide you over this fine friday night (ao3 won't let me call this chapter 2 and a half but let's say it's chapter 2 and a half)

Neither boy really felt like going home right after the movie, so they didn’t. They chose to sit outside on a public bench for a while. Harry’s staring at the sky, not in a bored way, but as if he’s just looking. Maybe thinking about something, Louis guesses. In the theatre they couldn’t really talk to each other but whenever a good one-liner came around they’d both sneak glances at the other while they giggled, as if making sure the joke wasn’t lost on them. 

 

Harry’s wearing a plaid flannel and ripped skinny jeans, almost a carbon copy of what he was wearing the night they met, except for a few details. Louis spots some writing on the back of Harry’s hand as he’s definitely not checking him out, he can tell it’s writing because of the contrast against his actual tattoo (and it wasn’t there the day before).

 

“’S on your hand there?” he questions, brushing his fingers against the ink to draw Harry’s attention back down to earth. 

 

“Oh nothing. Just writing at home earlier and I didn’t have any paper,” he says, eyes boring into the words on his own hand, as if he forgot they were there.

 

“Writing what? Can you read it to me, I can’t see quite well without my glasses on,” which is true, Louis can see that there’s ink there but by moonlight his eyes are furthermore useless. 

Harry pretends he isn't imagining how cute Louis would look with glasses on, what shape they are, if his fringe flops over the frames a little and answers the question, “I s’pose it’s lyrics. I tried adding guitar but I’m rubbish at it and the chords I know don’t really fit. Says ‘tired of sleeping alone’.”

“Aren’t we all?” Louis doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, but he’s gotten brave. He sits there looking into those green eyes and feels as though nothing could be wrong with his life, the nagging voices normally in the back of his mind seem to have fallen asleep to the sound of the boy’s voice. He can focus. “You know, I play piano quite a bit. I could help you out, if you ever want me to. I’m no good at words but the music bit comes a tad quicker for me. Maybe we could be a team, like Macklemore and Ryan Lewis, but not really at all, you know?”

 

“That is a very strange comparison but I think I understood it. We probably both spend too much time on the internet, nothing really makes sense on there but I always just get it.”

 

The rest of the night is a blur of gushing about favourite bands and which lyrics hit each boy the hardest. It’s exactly what they needed and they make plans to meet up again a few days later at one of Harry’s favourite coffee shops. Louis has always gone by the theory that the more you see a person, the more you’ll see the person. Like, a chain reaction. You hang out once, you make plans to hang out again and so on, and because the plans are made in person, they’re more likely to actually happen. It is one thing to comment “I miss you” on a Facebook status and half-heartedly promise to meet up soon, but when you’re face-to-face agreeing to meet up, "soon" isn’t just a cop-out. They will hang out sooner rather than later, and maybe neither part will admit it, but they’d rather just stay together out of convenience so they don’t have to go through the tedious task of bringing up when they’ll meet again. They both know they will meet again, and they both know it’ll be soon so what does it matter exactly when and where?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just planned out the rest of the story and it's looking like 15 chapters total and i know what each one will be so let's get this show on the road!!! also don't hold me to anything because i will let you down


	4. Calling Me Names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a good chance this chapter is a piece of shit and i'm sorry??

Tonight Louis has come to Harry’s place of employment, a book store with a coffee shop inside, to watch one of Harry’s favourite regular performers. He’s already ordered a tea because he’s not yet at a point where he would feel comfortable eating in front of Harry so he makes sure not to spend an extended period of time with him that would overlap traditional “mealtimes” to avoid an uncomfortable situation. Food makes Louis uncomfortable. He makes himself uncomfortable in general. Tea is known to be warm and fills you with warmth instead of calories, that’s why Louis ordered it. If he’s being honest, he’d say he’s been feeling better lately, still empty but warmer somehow. Probably not just because of the tea. It’s almost as if he’s finally felt the sunshine. Louis is one of those people that is always cold, but he could stop feeling weird for wearing pants in August because Harry always looks dressed for autumn.

 

Harry walks over as Louis is pondering his warmth, wearing his usual outfit and those same worn-down boots.

 

“Hey, how was your day?” Louis asks as Harry sits down opposite him.

 

“Alright. Fine. How was yours?” He says, sipping on the weird drink he bought before joining Louis, who is used to the younger boy being short about work, he can tell Harry doesn’t enjoy his job and he never asks why even though he’d like to know.

 

“Up until now it was a bit dull, honestly. And what are you drinking today?” Louis has noticed that he always has something different in his mug. This is something he’s not afraid to ask about.

 

“Trying a new frappucino, it’s got cookie bits in it. I try to change my order every time I go out, to add a bit of adventure to my life.”

 

“Well aren’t you a regular daredevil! I applaud your bravery,” Louis says, laughing. “Looks like the boy you told me about is setting up now. I’d love to take your word but I really must see this for myself.” Louis isn’t jealous that Harry has mentioned this boy multiple times when the two of them were texting. He’s just curious. The boy walking onto the small stage is quite handsome and Louis just might rethink his jealousy. Louis thinks he looks quite chipper, blonde, and when he talks between songs it’s clear that he has an Irish accent. Everything about him is cute, including his voice.

 

During a lull between songs Harry asks, “how do you like Niall?” and Louis tells him how honestly, he loves him. Harry looks pleased with that answer.

 

During the next half of Niall’s show Louis gets distracted by Harry. He can’t help but notice the way he stares longingly at the friend on stage. At first he thought maybe Harry really did have a thing for Niall but as the songs go on, he’s not so sure. Louis thinks that maybe the longing isn’t for Niall, but for what he’s doing. Harry did mention his passion for singing, and after the boys’ chat a few nights prior, Louis knows he also writes songs. There is a pang of sadness in his eyes that wouldn’t necessarily be visible if you weren’t already staring. Harry wants to be up there, he wishes it was him up there.

 

“Do you ever play here, Haz?” That’s the nickname Louis just came up with, apparently.

 

“No, never have. Can’t.” Harry is scratching at his legs now, looking down, angry at himself. 

 

“Why not?” Louis asks before he has time to filter his thoughts. For once he’s speaking his mind.

 

“You saw Niall up there, I’m nothing like that. Not that good. No. None of these people want to hear my dumb voice sing my dumb songs. Niall’s good though, too bad he doesn’t think of it as anything more than fun. He’d tear up the charts.” Harry starts off quiet, reluctant, but then decides upon a way to slide the conversation to a more comfortable subject. He’s always been good at that – showing emotion but then covering it up. He notices Louis look a little hurt after his response and he feels bad for shutting him down, but he feels like he has to. 

 

Harry can’t pretend he hasn’t caught onto the fact that Louis is a bit, um, delicate. The older boy has casually avoided all of Harry’s offerings of food, at the concert, at the movies and now at the coffee shop. He can’t pretend that it doesn’t worry him. Louis is thinking much of the same, he wants to ask Harry more about the singing thing but he’s shit at pep talks and usually moves the conversation towards lighter subjects. That is where Louis is comfortable. This is usually not a great feature of his, because it means his friends won’t confide in him. He spends a lot of time trying to seem cheery so people assume he doesn’t understand their problems. The real truth is that if things get too serious he’ll end up bringing his problems into it, Louis can talk about anything but.

 

Both boys just nod and keep sipping their drinks, not knowing what to say next.

 

-

 

“That was good Louis. You should come by again, I think Niall is bringing his friends next week to sing with him. It gets a bit silly but they’re ace together,” Harry suggests as the two of them walk out of the shop a while later.

 

“Yeah, when you get up there I’ll definitely show up.”

 

“Is that your way of declining? I’m not going up there! My voice is not up to par, remember?”

 

“Doubtful! Sing for me sometime, I’ll judge.” Louis says, leaning closer to Harry and pointing his fingers towards the taller boy’s face. They continue walking side-by-side, falling into step seamlessly.

 

“My apartment is this way, text me when you get home, right?” Harry says, pointing to his right. He wasn’t joking when he said he always had to make sure his friends were safe. Louis thinks it’s kind of silly, but he still does it anyway.

 

“Of course, wouldn’t want you worrying ‘bout little old me.”

 

Harry just laughs and slings his long arm over Louis’ shoulder, pulling him closer into his side. In that position the height difference is so obvious, Louis’ head just resting on Harry’s shoulder. Louis thinks is comfortable, he could probably stay like this. When the shorter boy looks up he can see Harry looking back and they stay like that for a moment before he pulls away, squeezing Louis’ shoulder as a goodbye because he made it clear (without actually saying) that he doesn’t do hugs.

 

“Goodnight, Haz.”

 

“Night, Lou.”

 

And then Harry is walking away, leaving Louis stuck in his spot, dumbfounded by his new nickname. He doesn’t think he wants to let Harry go, ever. His new friends is walking away with both hands clasped behind his back, looking timid like he’s afraid he’ll run into someone. Louis turns around because he’s afraid if he keeps watching that he’ll have seen too much. The older boy thinks he needs to get a grip before he falls into a deeper bit than ever before. He thinks maybe it’s just because he’s getting the attention he had been starving for. And then he’s laughing at himself while walking away because he’s definitely starved in more ways than one. He might be a wreck of emotions but he still manages to joke with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next one is gonna be better i just feel bad i haven't updated in a bit and i won't be able to again for a bit so here's this xo


	5. I'm A Mess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for leaving this hanging for so long, I just got sidetracked and lost all confidence in this story but I'm about to start my summer vacation and my goal is to finish it by the time school starts again in September!  
> Thank you to the person that commented earlier asking if I was going to update, I probably wouldn't have gotten my act together if it wasn't for you xo

Somehow both of them managed to have the Saturday off so harry is sitting in his apartment with Louis watching TV. Well, Louis is asleep, so just harry is actually watching TV. But he’s not really paying attention because he’s watching Louis. The TV is irrelevant. Harry has begun to pick up on some of Louis’ weird quirks now that they’ve known each other for a few weeks. Quirks like how he doesn’t hug, how much tea he consumes, and the fact that the younger boy has never seen him eat anything. The thing is, he knows Louis has a problem with food. It’s made obvious (at least to Harry) by the occasional jokes about his size and the curious way that they never seem to be together around traditional mealtimes.

He doesn’t know where they stand, unsure if it’s his place to mention his musings yet. Harry would love to have Lou in his life for much, much longer because he’s funny and his head rests into the crook of Harry’s shoulder so easily, standing up or sitting side-by-side on the couch. They like the same movies, although for different reasons, and they both love the big city they live in. He wants to kiss Louis all the time but he’s afraid – afraid the other boy doesn’t want that, afraid he won’t let himself want that. Harry knows so little about Louis’ true personal life, about his past. He doesn’t know when the eating problem came into the picture, or why. He’s never spoken about anything below surface level save for a few snippets of sadness that he quickly paints over.

When Harry finally gets out of his head, he notices Louis stirring, about to wake up. Most days Louis is sleepy, but the curly one doesn’t mind because it gives him time to check Tumblr or write lyrics or sweep the floors he’d usually neglect. And when Louis is sleeping he can sit beside him and they almost have to cuddle because the couch in Harry’s apartment is more of a loveseat. It’s small, like Louis. It makes for good “accidental” touching of the knees and shared bowls of popcorn that Louis never touches but always pretends to love.

When Louis finally opens his eyes he looks so young but so troubled. And like he could have slept for a lot longer.

“Welcome back, something the matter?”  
“Me? I’m a mess,” he says, clearing his voice.  
“But I make more sense with you..” Harry sings along, hoping Louis understands.  
“Chad Sugg, really?” He sits up, looking surprised.  
“Did you go to the show he played a while back? It was brilliant, maybe we were at the same gig!”  
“I was probably stood behind you, annoyed at your height!” He’s smiling now.  
“If I had noticed you we could have been friends much earlier, it’s a shame.”  
“Now we’ll have to make up for it by staying friends forever, I suppose.”  
“I’d be okay with that.” Understatement of the century, Harry would be way more than just okay with it.  
“Me too.” He looks down, pensive, troubled again.  
“What’s bugging you, Lou?” Harry asks, as the sleepy boy’s stomach grumbles, almost an invitation to dive into deeper subjects, “do you want some tea? Or I could make you egg on toast? I haven’t got much food.”  
“OK yeah, I guess I could eat a bit,” Louis says though he’d rather not, but he can’t pretend they didn’t both hear his stomach.

\-----------------------------------------------

The next week is hard for both of them because of school getting busy and Harry is losing his will to get out of bed in the morning knowing he won’t see Louis. He thinks it’s pathetic and childish that he feels sad all the time for no reason, and he’s been having urges without any specific trigger, he just keeps getting lost in his thoughts and it creeps in. He hasn’t given in, but he’s thinking about it more than he’d like to. Harry had given it up for a while but after feeling like total crap without Louis there, and knowing he can’t fix Louis because he doesn’t know how. Love doesn’t actually fix people, they are not clocks. They maybe be able to act like one, though: being right twice a day.

A “broken” person can seem happy on occasion but the moment slips away and reality comes back into play and they are still as flawed as before. Harry feels that way, it’s not that he can’t be happy it’s just that he can’t stay happy. Like the broken clock again, it can be right but then a minute passes and it’s all wrong again. Time changes. Life changes.

After work most days Harry tries to get his feelings out on paper or he plays sad music really loud while he lays in bed feeling sorry for himself. He can’t help it, that’s how he deals with life. Though it’s more of an avoidance.

He wishes Louis were with him. He wishes he had someone else besides Louis to talk to. He wishes he could deal with things properly in a healthy way. He wishes he could kiss Louis. 

They still text most of the time, but both parties think the other must be disinterested. Harry can’t stand the thought of Louis all alone, thinking the same things that Harry tries so hard to push away. He couldn’t know that Louis is dealing with different demons. Harry thinks that maybe if he confesses or accidentally lets Louis inside his mind, that the older boy will reciprocate. He wants Louis better. He knows how it feels, it feels shit.

See, Harry has never shown anyone his scars and nobody has ever seen them. Sometimes he feels dishonest, but he doesn’t know what he’d say if someone were to ask why he did it. He doesn’t even know why he does it, it has gotten out of his control. He assumes that everyone would think he’s mental, but he knows he’s not or they’d run away like he’s not worth their time, because he knows he’s not. So he never follows through, he covers himself up and nobody ever questions it so it’s obvious to Harry that they don’t wonder, they don’t care, they don’t pay attention. He doesn’t know why they would.

Harry pays too much attention to other people. Ever since he started his downward spiral he has started to look for signs in other people, he looks to make sure they’re OK and he wants to protect them from themselves. He can realize that not everyone suffers but he still watches, he can’t stand the thought of missing something, not noticing if someone wasn’t alright. It eats him up inside. Every time Harry catches a smile not reaching a friend’s eyes, every time someone doesn’t finish their plate of food, every time they put themselves down, every single time they post something cryptic on Twitter he gets so anxious and scared that they’re falling apart. The worst part for Harry is that he has all these questions and theories in his head but he can’t build himself up enough to confront anyone. He wants to help so badly but he can’t figure out how.

There’s a pencil sharpener and a screwdriver in his desk drawer that could make him forget for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it, sorry there wasn't a ton of Louis in this bit


	6. Don't Think I'll Ever Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you prefer longer chapters, or how I do it now (the whole chapter is one continuous moment/setting)? Also, they don't interact much in this chapter either but I think you gotta get to know them on their own, right?

Louis finds it funny how much he misses Harry when they’re apart. It’s strange for him, he’s used to feeling physically and mentally empty, but when he’s not with Harry it’s something different. Like an emptiness of the heart. Like all of Louis’ good emotions left when Harry did. He can only feel the bad stuff when he’s alone as opposed to feeling the bad stuff all the time. Louis feels too much and all at once and he doesn’t handle it but now he’s found what it’s like to smile properly and everything else has dulled in comparison.

He hasn’t had any good friends in a while, he had one school mate – Liam – but he moved away for university and as a result can’t comfort Louis like he used to. Louis thinks Liam has some kind of parental instinct, preferring to stay in and talk instead of going out like everyone else and getting hammered. He was good for Louis. He made the sad boy smile a lot. But not in the same way he smiles around Harry. Maybe it’s because Louis never wanted to kiss Liam. He’s sure Liam would be good at it but he likes girls and Louis didn’t have those feelings anyway. The older boy has urges to kiss Harry and hug him and lay in bed with him and hold his hand. He doesn’t actually do any of these things, but he wants to. Harry is like the sunshine, Lou feels warmer and cheerier when he’s around. Also like the sunshine, Louis used to go without. He used to stay inside. He missed and entire summer because he felt too shitty to enjoy it.

Don’t be confused, Louis isn’t naïve and he knows Harry isn’t perfection personified or anything, there’s sadness in his eyes sometimes that Louis can recognise because he sees it in himself. Harry just seems to understand his older friend, doesn’t push him to talk about stuff, he’s quiet and doesn’t crowd Louis and he writes music and though he says he can’t sing, everyone can tell he’s being modest. Louis wants to volunteer Harry to perform at the coffee shop because he knows the curly haired boy wouldn’t ever do it himself. First, Louis wants to get Harry to sing to just him. He has an inkling that the inner workings of his brain are very complex and he has trouble expressing himself in conversation but can fit it into verses well.

After all this thinking, Louis rolls over to check the clock and sees it’s 3:56AM and he can’t sleep. He sat for most of the day staring out his window listening to The Script trying not to think about his shit job or his shit personality or his aching stomach or how uncontrollably fast he’s falling for Harry. He doesn’t even have the energy to stop himself anymore. Harry’s stupid jokes and fluffy hair and long legs and constant plaid shirts and slow drawl just get into the tired one’s head and don’t leave. Harry is a song that Louis can’t stop singing, one that should be sung at festivals and played during a long drive and put on repeat when you’re having a bad day. He finds himself wanting to be a writer so he could put the boy on paper for other people to enjoy. He makes Louis think he could create again like he did when he wasn’t sad and 21. If he was different, he’d be all over Harry. If he was different, maybe Harry would be all over him. Louis thinks maybe if he was better or thinner or taller or more social, they could be so great. He’s everything Louis wished to find when he was Harry’s age. He dreamed of meeting someone at a concert and silently becoming friends and leaving together to slip into a whirlwind love story where Louis find out his partner is a musician and they become a duet, somehow making something of themselves with music. They’re buy a cute house and adopt a kid or a cat and drink lots of tea, and write more songs about how wonderful their lives became. Sometimes, a little part of Louis can see this playing out with Harry, something about that boy makes him optimistic. A lot has changed in the short time since Louis was 19 though, and the dream becomes harder to recall, once vivid he now can’t remember why exactly he though it could be reality.

This is what happens when Louis isn’t around people for an extended period of time, he starts thinking. Sometimes it’s harmless (like pondering just how exactly a computer works) but sometimes he just dwells on his hate for everything. He doesn’t know why he hates everything and he doesn’t know how to make it stop. He’s never been a ball of positivity but he will swear that he used to get excited about more than just the possibility of hanging out with Harry. He used to be passionate about things like music. He used to be all over that world, he still is but it’s like going through the motions. He’ll find a band, download all their stuff and wait for them to come to his area. Lather, rinse, repeat. Being around Harry makes this different because they share interests in music and maybe they are both going through a weird time. Being able to talk to each other about bands and lyrics brings back some of the passion and spark. It’s almost like food has lost it’s taste but he keeps eating in hopes that one day it’ll all come back. He’ll remember how to feel. He would suggest that he’s gone monotone but in the sense of emotions. Is there a word for that? Who knows.

You might be thinking, why doesn’t Louis just go on antidepressants? Ask him. He doesn’t want to open that bucket of inevitable worms. To get medication would require him to tell someone that he thinks he feels more crap than the average person and that means being checked up by a doctor, talking about his emotions. He’s just not up for that today. Or any day. People have it worse though, right? They must if they’re desperate enough to seek help, Louis thinks. He doesn’t need some prescription to make him think he’s happy – he wants to genuinely be happy. He’d say he’s getting there, along the lines of At Least I’m Not As Sad As I Used To Be because really, he’s not. Compared to the beginning of this year, he’s doing swell. Dandy. Almost OK. He can laugh again. In his free time he watches all the good sitcoms on Netflix (there’s enough drama and horror in his real life). He can still laugh. It’s 3:57AM and Louis wants to text Harry so the other boy can ramble on about something and he can calm down enough to sleep. He’ll be fucked in the morning if he doesn’t close his eyes soon.

**You’re probably not awake, but I am. The stars are shining,**

Louis has lost his ability to filter out his true thought because he’s tired, and nobody should let him text at this hour. Makes a twat of himself, honestly.

_I’m awake, stars are bright, should get thicker curtains_  
 **Hide under your blanket!**  
 _Wouldn’t it be nice (if we were older) for us to live in a blanket fort_

Louis’ breathing hitches as he notices Harry wrote “us” as in, Louis and Harry, doing something together. In his head maybe they’re a package deal.

**Love that, written any songs you’re gonna play for me yet?**  
 _Maybe just now, too tired to sleep_  
 **Maybe you could come over tomorrow after, I work ‘til 6**

They say maybe a lot. Maybe because they’re both unsure of the other’s true feelings. It’s like friendship chicken, they suggest something but add a maybe on the end, until someone crosses a boundary.

_You’ll make me haul my guitar all that way would you!!!_  
 **But I have more blankets than you do and it’s implied that we’d build a fort and you’d sing**  
 _Find but what if I wrote a duet, who’d sing with me? Do you know anyone who sings?_  
 **Cute but no, Styles**  
 _You’ll have to do it then, maybe that was my plan all along. I’ll send you over some lyrics_

…

_Why can’t I sleep?_  
 **Because you keep texting me, you silly kid! Put the phone down**  
 _Stop texting me back!!!!!_

…..

**Good night, Harry**  
 _Night Lou, xo_

Harry falls asleep right away, while Louis spends the rest of his waking hours adding little pieces to Harry’s songs that he sent via email, and generally feeling very inspired. He plans to give all the songs a piano piece – in the morning though, when his neighbours aren’t sleeping.


	7. On The Floor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't expect updates this often - I don't even know how this has happened. And yeah, we all know Harry is italics and Louis is bold. Common knowledge.

He’s nervous. Louis wants to hear him sing, hear him play – and not just any song, no, a song he wrote himself. A song he put his heart into. And he wrote it about the boy that would later hear it, ‘bout them. He’s not sure if the older boy will notice but if he just listens like no one else does (ever has) he’ll get it. And Harry will get to hear him sing. He can’t think of a better setup, they’re making a fort (if Louis was being serious, and Harry is 99% sure he was). Harry wants to bring hot cocoa or something, but he doesn’t want to be pushy. Maybe if they get close enough tonight, Harry thinks, he can whisper his secrets and Louis can whisper his and they’ll cry together. There’s no doubt in his mind that it won’t happen, but he still daydreams. In real life Harry will probably slip up playing his song and Louis will think it’s about someone else or he’ll realize it’s about him but think it’s weird – he won’t feel the same. But maybe, just maybe, Louis will kiss him. Maybe Harry will step up to the plate and kiss Louis first. 

On his way over, Harry texts Louis to make sure he’s done work.

**Running late but you can wait outside if you don’t want scary guys scaring you on those mean streets ;)**   
_Your building is nice._   
**You’ve been here before, right?**   
_You must have me confused with your other curly friend…_

Just as Harry hits send, he sees Louis walking towards him with a drink in each hand.

“Got us these, hot drinks soothe the vocals, don’t they?”  
“Look at you and your smarts! What did you get me?” Harry asks, making grabby hands for a cup.  
“Wait, hold them while I open the door, and don’t be impatient!”  
“Can’t,” Harry replies, and the word resonates within him somewhere.

As Louis unlocks and opens the door, the first thing Harry notices is that there is in fact an extravagant fort made from more blankets than Harry has ever seen in one place.

“Blankets are my weakness?” Louis says after witnessing Harry’s jaw drop, “they’re all so comfy and cozy and there’s so many different fabrics – plus I’m always cold. Someone stop me!” And to that, Harry just giggles.

Both drinks have the same markings on top so Harry takes a sip of the one on his left and finds his taste buds pleasantly surprised.

“Lou, you gotta tell me what this is and where you got it! I’ve never had this!”  
“Calm down, crazy! There’s a place beside my work, and I know you like trying new things all the time so here you go! I’m even gonna try it and maybe I let you hold them because I knew you’d sneak a sip and give me your opinion before I risk anything.”  
“Because trying a bad drink is just the worst, eh?” Harry jokes, making a face of surprise.  
“For some people, it might be. Not everyone is a modern day Daredevil,” Louis whines, pouting.  
“You’re cute.”  
“You’re stupid.”

So Louis and Harry take their drinks, and the guitar case – still on Harry’s back – into the fort. After setting his drink down, Harry pulls out the guitar and starts strumming mindlessly, trying to find a rhythm. 

“Your guitar is small and kinda beat up,” just like the two of them.  
“Had it a while, my pride and joy,” Harry says with stars and his eyes and magic in his voice. Music has gotten that kid through so much that he can practically feel himself light up when he speaks about it.  
“Can you play me anything I’d know?”  
“I really like Falling In Love In A Coffee Shop, just learned it,” not because it has a personal connection to either of them, nah.  
“I love that song, Harry! Please play it!” Louis says excitedly.

As Harry plays, Louis sips his drink and fights an internal struggle of whether or not to sing along. Harry, meanwhile, is singing extremely softly, trying (and failing) to convince Louis that he’s focusing just on playing, though he’s played the song a million times. He doesn’t want to come across too sure of himself and then be even more embarrassed when Louis points out wrong notes.

“That was wonderful,” Lou finally says when the song is done.  
“Uh, thanks, I-I’m not fluid but sometimes,”  
“No. You play like you were meant to and I have a feeling you probably were. And from what I could hear, you’ve got a voice on ya!”

Harry finishes his drink – he still doesn’t know exactly what it is – and puts the guitar down to fetch his notebook out of the guitar case behind him. It’s tattered and is littered with words and doodles, some of the pages have been ripped out, and there’s a huge coffee stain on the cover, but it holds all his secrets and he could never let it go.

“Can I see? If you don’t want me to I won’t, but can I?”

This is Harry’s chance to let Louis into his mind, indirectly telling him how he really feels and he knows it could go terribly wrong but before he can think any more, he says, “uh sure but just, don’t look near the front that stuff is uh, shit?”

By shit he means terribly worded emotional and triggering rambles and just shit, really.

Louis takes the book and delicately flips it open to the middle then crosses his legs and starts reading. He looks comfortable and interested (he is) but on the other hand, Harry has never been more uncomfortable in his life. He can feel Louis reading his mind and judging him - oh my god now he knows. He wants to rip the book out of Louis’ hands before he can get any farther but he’s frozen. He needs to get out of here, he needs air.

“I’m just gonna go to the bathroom, right or left door?” He says hurriedly.  
“Louis barely glances up before answering, “left.”

He picks himself up and scampers to the bathroom to wet his face and just his luck, there’s to window. He can’t breathe. He’s choking. He’s panicking. Is there anything sharp in here? He needs to do something he needs to-

“Haz?” He hears that voice and it breaks him out of the trance, “H-harry?” Is Louis still in the living room or is he outside the door? Harry can’t tell right now. He can’t even feel his fingers. Louis has probably come to break off the friendship, Harry knows it. He feels like nothing, he just writes his feelings and thinks he’s made a song but it’s not, he can’t, he can’t even do the thing he loves. He can’t.  
“Harry, I’m on the couch, you should come out from where you’re hiding,” Louis is now pleading in a soft tone. He’s afraid of what Harry could be doing in the bathroom, but more afraid of barging in.

Harry opens to door slowly and drags himself towards the voice, just focusing on that voice. It’s a small apartment so he doesn’t have much time before coming face-to-face with Louis and-

“Are you crying, Louis? I didn’t think my lyrics were that pathetic, oh man, what have I done, I’ve fucked it all up,” he tries to sound joking but he’s such a wreck right now he can’t even be sure the words came out in the right order.  
“Are you crying? Are we both crying? Harry, what’s going on?”  
“I don’t know? We’re both crying and I don’t know why exactly you are but I’m crying because I just had a small meltdown in your bathroom and I guess this was a side effect. Sadness doesn’t suit you, Lou. Please don’t cry. Wipe those alligator tears away,” he says, out of breath as he sits down in the fort again beside Louis. He presses his fingers to the older boy’s cheeks to wipe away the tears.  
“I’m crying because I really care about you Harry.”  
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand, but I’m sorry,” because he knows the problem is with him, he always ruins things, and he can’t keep anything together. Not even himself.  
“You don’t understand? I care about you. I read some of those words and my stomach dropped. At first I thought I was reading about someone else. This can’t be you, but it is and how did I not know? How can I?” Louis trails off, unaware how to even collect his thoughts – looking out the window.  
“You wanna get rid of me,” it’s not a question. Harry states it as fact and now he’s crying again in full force, like a faucet. When did he get so bad?  
“No, I wanna hold your hand and have you tell me in non-poetic words what you’ve done,” Louis answers, sounding more like a parent than he planned.  
“I still don’t think I know what you’re saying,” He’s just a kid, he doesn’t know how to discuss such sensitive topics. Neither of them have ever done this before.  
“You may not have written it outright but I know you’re hurting. Can you walk me through it?”  
All of a sudden Harry puts his defenses up, “no. No. No, I’m not. It’s nothing, you’ve got it wrong, really. All wrong.”

Harry’s head spins, trying to think of ways to dodge this whole conversation that he thought he wanted to have.

Louis touches his shoulder then, and he flinches away. Scared.

“Harry, it’s kinda warm in here, don’t you want to take off that heavy flannel? He says, trying to pull a confession out of Harry in a rather passive-aggressive way.  
“Why?” At this, Louis looks away again. Harry thinks he’s contemplating how to grill him for more information. Louis is trying to figure out what to do, what to say.  
“Um, I don’t know how to phrase this. Have you ever hurt yourself, Harry?” Harry really thought he could do this, though he could pass it all off as nonchalant and then start helping Louis but everything has gone to shit so fast. He doesn’t know how to explain, there is no explanation or excuse, Harry knows he’s just being an idiot kid.  
“Hasn’t everyone, I mean, you burned your tongue the other day when I made you tea. That must have hurt,” he’s stalling now.  
“Have you hurt yourself on purpose?” Harry has never seen his friend so serious and he doesn’t like it. Louis feels the same.  
And then suddenly Harry explodes, “have you starved yourself?? Huh? Yeah, don’t think I can’t turn this around! I can! Don’t’ come after me when you are just as bad!” He just wants to be left alone, he knows this is just going to cause further problems, but he doesn’t want to be the subject of discussion anymore.

Louis is shell-shocked. He didn’t think Harry had notice, he’d tried so fucking hard to be cool. Everything started to go downhill and now they’re off the cliff.

“Sorry. Sorry, Louis. I’m a dick and I didn’t wanna own up to anything, I thought I could but I can’t. I’m sorry..”

Louis doesn’t say anything for what seems like hours to Harry. They both stay seated, though far away from each other.

“Sorry.”  
“I’m sorry too, but you have to leave. Please, just get out. I don’t wanna do this. Please, Harry, please just leave me alone for a while.”

But, you said you’d stay. You said you weren’t trying to get rid of me! Harry wants to scream, instead just gathering up his guitar and getting up. His legs feel like they’re made of lead as he reluctantly makes his way out of the apartment. Without the sun shining through the window, the place looks much sadder than it had when he’d walked in. He probably looks the same. If he turned around, he’d see Louis curl into a ball and start weeping again. But he doesn’t. He has no trouble accepting that he isn’t good enough for someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry about that, if you wanna comment with theories on what will happen next, I'd love to read them!   
> P.S. if you relate to this/feel like talking/think I'm an interesting person you can follow me on tumblr @ notcrazy-justsensitive.tumblr.com  
> Have a good day/night wherever you are, xo


	8. Gotta Get Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the couple typos in the last chapter, I must have missed those when editing. This on hasn't been edited as it's kinda late and I just figured I'd post it because it's technically finished!

Being apart was probably one of the worst things for both of them. It meant crying, and skipping a few classes, and relapsing. Pretty bad. Both parties felt at fault, and neither could muster up the strength to apologise. Things just got so bad, it felt like it was over forever.

The worst part was, neither of them had anyone to vent to about the whole situation, because that would require them to explain that they had problems, and try to categorize the relationship that had been ruined. It would also require someone on the receiving end of that conversation. 

A few days in, Louis crawled out of bed to take down the fort, no longer wanting to be reminded every time he went into the living room. In the mess of blankets, he found something. Harry’s journal. On that horrid day, he hadn’t gotten to read that much of it before being overcome with sadness, and this felt like it would be no different. After he carefully (and with shaking hands) put away all the sheets (they could be washed later), he considered taking the book straight to Harry’s apartment and making up but decided to place it on the counter and go back to sleep instead. Maybe tomorrow he’d have the energy to leave his apartment. 

The next day, Louis rolled out of his blanket cave after noon and strolled into the kitchen for a drink, and saw the journal there, on the counter. Half asleep he decided maybe if he just read a few more pages he’d figure it all out. Maybe he really was wrong about Harry. And it’s not like he didn’t already have permission to read it, he’s not invading anything.

Upon reading it (even the pages near the beginning. If you ask Louis, those were some of the worst. He had to stop a few times to digest it all before continuing) he came to a conclusion. He wanted to bring these songs and feelings to life. If he could only help Harry see the worth in them..

Louis had a new plan. A new purpose, and instead of sleeping the day away, he stayed up all night typing out some of his personal favourite songs, adding the chords, and deciding which would sound best with piano. Harry had sent him a few audio files along with the few lyrics, way back before it all happened. He used those as a base for his final project: he was going to get Harry noticed by someone. He took it upon himself to become the manager of Harry’s career, whether he knew it or not. With their combined talents, he knew they could get somewhere. He felt so good by the time the sun was shining again, he rewarded himself with a coffee from his favourite place down the street. With milk. And sugar. He even picked up a small cup of yoghurt with granola while he was there. The most he’d consumed at once since, well, probably an unhealthy amount of time ago.

On the other side of town, Harry was in a bad headspace. He can’t shake the feeling that Louis truly hates him. And he hates himself even worse than Louis (probably) hates him. He hadn’t cut himself so frequently and deeply in so long, he had forgotten. It was this awful mix of relief and shame while simultaneously feeling nothing at all. 

The thing is, he notices. That’s the thing. Although he and Louis may seem alike they are so, so different. Not only in the physical aspects. Harry’s run-in with sadness only made him look farther outside himself – his sadness is caused by his own opinions while Louis is troubled with what other people may think. Harry now can’t help but look for sadness in others, his own made him aware. So painfully aware. He won’t let a fake smile slide anymore, he notices. He’s always trying to read people, terrified that someone might share his sadness. Louis is the opposite, he can’t look at someone for too long for fear that they’re judging him - he knows they are. He doesn’t believe that anyone could understand him, assumes he’s alone in his thoughts. He’s gone so far into his head it’s almost selfish, while Harry’s turned compassionate and tries to never stay in his own mind. That’s why Harry noticed that Louis wasn’t OK. That’s why he thought if he was the first one to open up, Louis might just bask in the fact that he has a friend in this madness. But it didn’t work. Nothing ever fucking worked.

If this grief wasn’t already enough, Harry was missing one of his favourite bands play a show in his city. It sounds stupid, he fucking know it sounds stupid as fuck, but it still hurt. You can’t control what hurts you, you have to take your emotions and feel them wholeheartedly. If you feel something, that’s valid. Some people won’t understand, they’ll try to undermine your feelings, tell you that you shouldn’t feel that way but you still feel. And Harry felt it all too much tonight. At this very moment the band would be hitting the stage, and he was at home. Alone. Crying about it. It wasn’t fair! He should be there, he should have got tickets – why this, of all shows? Why couldn’t this one be upgraded to a better venue? Why did it have to occur when he was already going out of his mind? Music was the only thing that ever helped anything and he knew that the band would come back again someday, but he couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his gut that hadn’t gone away no matter how he tried to distract himself. 

Fuck.

He tried everything he knew to distract him from losing it. He went for long walks, and then he walked some more until his legs hurt. He bought new books that he could barely afford, and whizzed through them in record time. He walked around the record store for ages, but nothing looked appealing. He laid in bed and blasted All Time Low until his ears couldn’t take it anymore. He cleaned his room, and then his entire apartment. He even caught up on coursework, and made up a calendar for upcoming assignments. Everything. 

Except writing. He hadn’t opened his guitar case since he got home from Louis’ house almost a week ago. He didn’t particularly feel like diving into those emotions yet. Normally, he could just face his emotions and spit them out until he didn’t feel them any longer but not now. That’s what caused all of this unease. He would eventually pick up the guitar case (9 days after) and actually play (10 days after) but quickly realize something Louis had known since day 3: he forgot his journal.

 

Both boys continued as they were for another week before thinking to check the date, and being pleasantly surprised that they had a real push to leave the house. A push in the form of Joshua Hyslop playing a gig in town, one that they were both going to and had bought tickets for without the other knowing – way back when.

As Louis prepared by hitting send on a few emails and obsessing over how he looked in one of his older t-shirts, Harry was already out of the house, covered up as usual in whatever he grabbed first and wandering around town. His typical routine as of late had been forcing himself to get up early and at least appear as a functional member of society by getting dressed, eating at his favourite café and then staying out until it got dark, or later. Being at home was comforting for a while, but walking helped him progress. He hadn’t cut in a little over 24 hours, so he was doing good. Walking it off. You can’t cut in the middle of the sidewalk, or in the corner of a grocery store. Walking is good. A lonely apartment filled with sharp objects, all in places Harry could easily access, was bad.

Some twist of fate (or a previously known common taste in music) caused Harry and Louis to run into each other at the gig. Well, obviously. It was a small venue and they were both alone, lonely, and decidedly not involved in the crowd. When they bump shoulders, it’s mostly by accident. 

“Hey, sorry- oh. Yeah, sorry for running into you and for everything else,” Louis mumbles after turning around and seeing those big green eyes, almost covered by the stupid curls.  
“Oh, ‘s’fine. Sorry.”

Yeah, they ran into each other just as he played Time Alone. Fate is not real. 

They go back to enjoying the show, aware of their closeness and the fact that it’s like they’re magnets being pulled back together. Once it’s finished, they start towards the merch table in sync, and Louis watches as Harry becomes this brighter, bubblier version of himself around the singer. He almost kisses him right then, but it’s not the right time.

Outside the venue, and somehow still side-by-side, they talk.

“I’ve got your journal,” Louis starts.  
“Yeah. I know.”  
“Considered mailing it back, I did. But I didn’t.”  
“Mhmm..”  
“Because I’m the one that asked for space, even though that was really dumb. I didn’t want space. Do you want your journal back?”  
“Well, that would be nice. Yeah,” Harry almost cracks a smile.  
“Are you too tired, we could go to mine right now? If it’s too late I could bring it by another day, or something. If you wanted, you could stay over I think my couch is clean. No more blanket fort though, I just..yeah.”  
“Ok, that sounds great. The show was wicked, eh?”  
“Of course! Should have guessed you’d be there. Too wrapped up in my own head.”

As the get on the bus, Harry’s hand almost reaches out for Louis’ and he almost doesn’t stop it. But they’re in this weird limbo between what they were and what happened, so he stops.  
Louis’ apartment looks the same, and smells the same. He makes Harry tea as soon as they get in, not having real confirmation if Harry was going to stay or not, but wanting to seem accommodating. The journal isn’t in the counter – and Louis instantly feels caught. He didn’t wanna tell Harry that he’d worked on the songs and sent some off to record labels until he had a positive result, but how would he explain that the journal was under his pillow? 

“It was kinda chilly outside so I figured you’d like tea, I’ll go grab your journal from my, uh, room,” Louis says, deciding to not offer an explanation or excuse in hopes that Harry wouldn’t ask.

When he comes back, Harry is stirring sugar into his tea. He’d forgotten that Harry had been here before, he knew where the spoons were kept. Again, it was a strange place in their relationship. Harry had been uncharacteristically quiet, Louis maybe uncharacteristically chatty. Like he used to be.

“Alright?” Louis says as he grabs he tea and hands Harry the journal which he proceeds to put with his coat, by the door.  
“I think so, yes. Are you?”  
“Yeah. Right now.”

There’s an unfinished conversation in the air, ghosts of things that should be brought up, but would dampen the mood.

Louis makes a move to sit on the couch, and the younger one follows, like a trained puppy. But instead of dopey eyes, his are almost empty of any life. Louis worries, “so did you wanna stay? You know I have extra blankets.”  
“Alright, sure. Would you, um. Would you lay out here with me? Maybe?” Harry asks, not wanting to lose this contact they’d been sharing the whole evening. He’s dying for things to go back to the way they were, the way they could have been if they both weren’t so fucked up. If Harry wasn’t so fucked up, if he hasn’t fucked things up.  
“You betcha, my friend. If you wanna turn on the TV or something while I change, go ahead. Do you want to borrow a pair of my PJs? They might be a bit short,”  
“Yeah, yeah. OK.” Harry can’t seem to think of any other words tonight, and it must be getting to Louis. 

They get settled in their comfy clothes and under some soft covers on Louis’ (fairly big) couch before another word is spoken, “is that, did you do that since we talked?” Louis asks, reaching out for Harry’s arm, no longer fully covered after he took off his button-down.

“I’m sleepy. Can we talk about that later?” Harry answers, nuzzling further into his pillow. Louis considers pushing further, but it’s getting close to 2AM and that conversation can wait.  
“Night, love,” Louis whispers, kissing Harry on the forehead after a few minutes pass and he’s sure the young lad has nodded off, “sweet dreams.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was kinda hard to write because I wanted them back together ASAP but yeah. The timeline is kinda weird too but I hope you like it anyway! Please feel free to let me know your thoughts and like last time, I'm available on tumblr notcrazy-justsensitive.tumblr.com always


	9. Fine, Great

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is so short but it all needed to happen

When they wake up, tangled in each other and with eyes full of sleep, it’s peaceful. Louis gets up first to make tea, like a tradition. 

“Do you have a stereo?” Harry asks from the couch, messing around with his phone.  
“Yeah, just in the TV stand. Phones work on the ‘DVD’ setting.”

Harry then gets up and figures it all out, soon enough The Civil Wars are playing softly in the small space. He looks pleased.

“Love this one, it’s Dust To Dust, right?”  
“Yeah! After their duet with Taylor Swift, I had to follow up on their new stuff.”  
“Me too! Perfect for a morning like this,” Louis says, and for a moment maybe they both thought they could go back to this. Talking about music and drinking tea, “2 sugars, milk?”  
“Mmm,” Harry says in response. Bewildered and comforted that Lou remembered.

Once done, Louis brings over the tea and gets onto the couch again, making himself small. He hands Harry a mug.

“Thanks, sorry. For messing everything up.”  
“I admire you, you know. For being able to get everything onto paper instead of keeping it inside. I wish I could do that, getting all the pain out of my system.”  
“Well, now the only hurt I feel is external. I guess.”  
“Me too. And I can’t stop. So I don’t expect you to stop. You’re quite clever, you know. Figuring me out like that.”  
“I think too much. Watch. Can’t stop. Makes me do bad things.”  
“Yeah?”  
“What, do you want to see or something because that is what they do in the movies and in the books, and it’s romantic and then I’m fixed right?” Harry says, accidentally raising his voice suddenly. Maybe trying to scare Louis off.  
“No. I mean, that would be nice, but I know as well as anyone that it won’t happen. How long has it been?”  
“I don’t know,” Harry doesn’t want to talk about this anymore, he wants to go back to when they mutually pretended that neither of them had problems.  
“But we can’t,” Louis replies, alerting Harry that he’d said that last bit out loud.

“Can’t. That’s why.”  
“Huh?” he says, moving closer to Harry again so they’re legs brush together.

“Can’t. All the things I can’t. That’s why I’ve done it. Haven’t in so long though. It’s an old problem, no need to worry I’m over it,” Harry says as a last shot at redeeming this whole thing. Time is a relative term. A “long time” for Harry right now is about 2 days, and it’s not his fault if Louis sees “long time” as something more.   
“Stop thinking about the can’t’s.”

“What can I?”

“You could hug me because I think we both need it.”

“Could I, could I kiss you? Your cheek?”

“Hun,” the older boy says, crawling into Harry’s lap like a child (and weighing probably as much as one).

“Neither of us are fixed yet, this won’t fix anything.”

“No it won’t but it makes me feel fuzzy. Sometimes I lay in bed and I wanna fix myself. For you. But also for me. You know it never works unless you wanna get fixed. Nobody else can staple you back together because one day they will be gone and you’ll rip all those bloody staples back out. You gotta heal yourself. I can heal myself with you by my side, right?”

“I just like being around you and yeah, you make me want to make myself better.”

“One day. One day we’ll learn how to see ourselves properly,” Louis adds, and as he does he leans over and kisses Harry. For real this time, on the lips.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

Since that dreaded day things haven’t changed much between Harry and Louis. Harry honestly thought maybe they’d fade out but they’ve just gone on as normal, texting every so often and hanging out when they can. Harry’s always been the kind of person that won’t open up unless asked specifically about something, and Lou hasn’t asked so no more talk in that ark territory has occurred. They haven’t kissed again either. Maybe they only kissed because Louis felts bad after everything about Harry got dragged up, but Harry’s not too torn about it. If there’s feelings there then so be it, they’ll figure it out. 

As far as his life outside of Louis, it’s been going alright. School and work are just the same. Harry’s studying journalism and though he may find it interesting, he can’t help but think he expresses himself better through songs than print articles about the rising cost of milk. A lot of the people in his classes are intriguing enough but after 2 years in the program, he still hasn’t made any full-fledged friendships. Especially now, going back after skipping out for a few weeks. It’s hard when everyone works independently, too. At least, those are the excuses Harry can come up with, he might actually be the only one in his class that has yet to bond with anyone. He doesn’t think about that too much because it gets him in a funk, and he doesn’t need any more of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been updating like some kind of speed demon maybe because I just graduated from the college program I was in, and haven't started my summer job yet so~~~~  
> notcrazy-justsenstitive.tumblr.com xo


	10. Blood Red Youth

_My last class ends at 4_   
**I can get food on my way over**   
_:)_

“Hey, how was class?” Louis asks, chipper today.  
“Shit, as usual but it’s over now.”  
“I got us fruit salad, it was the first thing I saw at the grocery store.” Louis says, offering too much information as a typical defense when lying. Harry can probably figure out why Louis likes to control what they eat.

So they’re sitting on the loveseat watching Community but Louis keeps shifting in his seat. During commercial breaks he keeps taking deep breaths in, and then crossing or uncrossing his legs, but he never says anything. The younger boy senses that he has something to bring up, but keeps losing courage. Or maybe he’s just antsy after eating in front of him?

After coming back from the bathroom with his flannel tied around his waist (it’s a nice day outside, and even if the apartment is chilly there are blankets on the floor. He was getting clammy), Harry sees Louis look up and take another big breath.

“Something to say?” Harry questions.  
“Yeah, well, I’ve been wondering, you just. You have so many scars,” Louis mumbles.  
All Harry can think is ‘how could I let this happen again?’ but he spits out, “oh.”

He then his mind starts racing, like he’s having a panic attack. Does he have panic attacks? He feels scared, he didn’t mean for Louis to see how bad he was. Or is.

“It’s just, I thought you were over it? You made it seem like you were fine now, it was a thing of the distant past? I’m no professional but those can’t be more than a few weeks old? Sorry. I don’t mean to sound rude?” Louis says after a minute, frowning.

Harry automatically reaches to scratch his arms out of habit. He isn’t sure if he wants to hurt, or possibly is trying to rip off the skin that he so badly resents. He hates being stuck in this awful looking skin, scratching has always been something he’s done. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand his own feelings most of the time.

“Oh,” he says again because he just can’t think of any other response.  
“Do you wanna tell me about it? Don’t think you have to, I’ve never seen this before so I don’t know how to react, you know? I want to understand.”

Louis looks concerned but also frightened, like Harry was the first time he saw someone with scars. It’s not like his arms are even the worst part, sadly. When he was still living with his family he’d have to wear t-shirts so his legs were the primary battleground. It’s a bit ridiculous, really, when Harry actually looks at himself because he doesn’t see it as so much when he’s frantically running the blade over his skin. It adds up.

“Yeah, I guess. It’s time, eh? To be honest, I started so long ago. Probably 17,” he starts, choosing to lay on the floor with his arms under his head, staring at the ceiling. Partially to cover himself, partially to pretend he’s alone. He tries to put together a story but it’s all so fuzzy.  
“Um, so I was 17 and I was in school and my grades were OK but I wanted them to be better, but I couldn’t bring myself to work hard on thing I didn’t care about. I had like 2 friends whom did their own thing and they were happy so I stayed at home most of the time, I didn’t feel like making an effort. Some days I would just listen to sad music really loud and try to be numb. I didn’t know why. I started feeling really down about myself and my life I guess around then because I didn’t know what I wanted to do and I had no money and my sister had everything together. She is so smart and I’m an idiot,” he then pauses, taking a shaky breath.  
“So I began seeing things about self-harm and whatever on the internet and that people that were doing it, they claimed that it let out emotions, calmed, worked as a punishment. I didn’t ever think that would be me. But I was sad all the time, I was faking smiles at things I used to actually smile at. So I thought I’d try it. And then I did it again, and again and I couldn’t decipher why I was doing it. I stopped for a while that first summer because I was scared that my shorts would ride up and someone would ask. I’ve always been afraid that people would ask questions because I really don’t have answers. You can probably tell. It’s annoying but it’s how I cope, kind of. I still feel sad but it got a little better, it gets better in intervals. Some last longer than others and when that happens I wonder why I ever needed to hurt myself. But then it’s 3 months later and I’m in a bathroom crying and covered in blood, yeah?”

Louis clears his throat then, causing Harry to be reminded that he’s there, listening. He comes back down to Earth and feels his carpet under him. He was talking so long, he got lost in his own mind.

“As much as I say I don’t know why I’ve done it, I have an idea. It goes back to those things I can’t. When I was lying in bed and the music wasn’t making me numb, I would think of all the things I had done wrong that day, that week, whichever. I can’t do a lot of things. I suck at most things. That brings anyone down if they think about it enough and I thought about it a lot. I never wanted to die, don’t worry. That wasn’t the objective. I hate myself but I care enough to stay alive. Maybe it’s a glimmer of hope. OK. That’s it, that’s all I have to say.”

Louis moves himself off the couch as Harry finished, and lays beside him on the floor, “I’m sorry I don’t have anything to add. I’m stunned, and even on a good day I’m crap with words. That’s your thing. I can only hope that me being here is enough,” he says, intertwining their hands. Silently letting a few tears slip out while Harry isn’t looking.

After that, the couple lay on the floor with reruns of The Office play on TV. It’s something they’ve learned to do; bask in comfortable silence.

“Harry, do you think you’ll ever stop cutting?” Louis whispers, turning to face him.  
“If you ask nicely.”  
“Seriously,”  
“I hope so. I could never imagine myself as a real grown adult still bleeding for selfish reasons. I like to think it’s just some horrible phase that I’ll spontaneously get over. With nothing to remember it by but the ugly scars, like a preppy phase in high school that you don’t feel connected to anything even though the picture evidence is on Facebook. My scars won’t go away but I can hope this feeling does. Except this isn’t a preppy phase and I can’t just go buy new clothes. It’s a little to harder to change, right?”  
“People say it’s a process and you’ll never truly leave it behind. Looks like you’ll be wearing argyle socks to your grave,” Louis chuckles, trying to lift the mood.  
“As soon as you wanna tell me your story, know I’m right here,” Harry whispers back, half hoping he doesn’t hear, the other half hoping his friend does open up one day.

Louis grabs his hand and squeezes, to which Harry squeezes back. They’re both getting sleepy so they don’t feel much like getting up at any point, especially when they don’t have classes the next day.

“Stay?” Harry asks.  
“Right here.”  
“We could go to my room, save ourselves the sore joints. I know we’re getting old and fragile.”  
“Speak for yourself! Depends on how you see it. I’m a bit fragile though so I hope your bed is soft.”  
“I only have one pillow,” Harry adds, blushing.  
“I’ll put my head on your shoulder. Maybe. I’m tired.”  
“Me too, let’s get up,” Harry says, sitting up. He reaches out and Louis grabs onto his arm to steady himself and Harry involuntary winces at the contact.  
“Baby, I didn’t realize. These are really new. Since we’ve met,” Louis coos, leading Harry to the bedroom, never letting go of the taller boy’s arm, simply moving it to a less sensitive area.  
“Yeah, since we met. Couldn’t help it,” Harry replies after they crawl under his big, soft comforter.  
“Okay, but can you possibly text me next time? Or find me? We can listen to music and be numb together instead. I’d like that.”  
“Let’s close our eyes,” Harry pleads, exhausted from being the subject of conversation all day. He kisses Louis on the forehead before tangling their legs together, and if Louis is uncomfortable being so close, fucked if he’d pass that up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pinky promise that's the last saddo for a bit. I hope it all makes sense (I'm going off my own feelings/experiences for the whole backstory so) (but i have no experience in dating/crushing/whatever they are doing) and I'll see you in a bit  
> notcrazy-justsensitive.tumblr.com


	11. It All Feels Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are picking up..

“But Lou, you promised!” Harry whines, pulling at the other boy’s arm.  
“That shit means noting, I just did it to get you up here.”  
“Louis Tomlinson if you don’t join me I’ll walk out right now,” Harry says in his most intimidating voice.  
“No you won’t,” Louis argues and it’s true. Harry wouldn’t walk out.

Louis had tricked Harry into performing tonight at the coffee shop attached to the bookstore he works in. He even somehow got a hold of Niall, convincing him to play with his bud. Earlier on Louis had promised he wouldn’t leave Harry’s side, as he was feeling a bit down but now he’s led him into the staff room to rehearse before what Louis has called Harry’s “big show”. Harry thinks his friend is a right wanker.

“Niall, you’ll play alone, won’t you?” Harry tries.  
“Yeah,” he starts just as Louis cuts in with, “No he won’t.”  
“No, I guess I won’t,” Niall then says, looking between the two boys. Harry assumes the blonde boy has been bribed with baked goods or something (he has).  
“We could play your songs then,”  
“Louis is under the impressions that you write songs though? Why don’t we sing yours, I’ve been playing guitar forever so I can pick up new stuff pretty fast,” Niall suggests.

Harry wants to stomp his foot like a toddler and get his point across. He knew telling Louis about his songs would come back to haunt him. Now he’s surrounded by the ghosts.

“You alright to go on in 5?” The store manager asks, peeking his head into the room.  
“No,” Harry groans while the other two pipe in with, “yes,” and, “definitely.”  
“I hate you guys.”

Louis leaves the two performers alone, probably in his best interests – Harry might have strangled him.

“Well then, this is happening. You gonna sing too though, yeah mate?”  
“Yeah I could pick up harmony or something, was taught in classes.” Harry is so glad Niall has such a calm aura, causing him to be less tense about the whole fiasco.  
“OK well I only have a few songs that are finished so here’s my notebook, it’s got chords on top of the lines. Feel free to improvise or make anything better, still there’s not nearly enough to play for as long as you normally do.”  
“We could play a cover too,” Niall says as he glances over the notebook.  
“Yeah, what do you know?”  
“What don’t I know? Name a few songs,” he says, laughing.  
“Been liking The 1975 lately-“  
“Brilliant, we’ll play The City. It’s my favourite.”  
“Um yeah OK and I like your song, the one that goes ‘do it all over again’ and I taught myself how to play,” Harry admits, blushing, as he tries to sing a bit of the song – luckily Niall catches on.  
“Yeah!”

So they go out and play and Harry is too terrified to look at anything but his guitar or Niall but people somehow like it, they’re smiling and not booing and Harry won’t look at Louis – whom is looking smug since he’s the one that put Harry on stage. During his one lovey-dovey song, Harry takes a chance and glances up to see Louis very possibly misty-eyed, Harry may also have been misty-eyed but yeah. He’s on the stage. By some miracle (Louis).

“You were such a rock star! I knew it! I told you, Niall, I told you he’d be the best!” Louis gushes after they stop playing, looking prouder and happier than Harry has ever witnessed.  
“You did. You were good man,” Niall says patting his partner’s shoulder, “you should play with me more often.”  
“Yeah, um thanks. And Louis could join us! He could back us up with some piano and vocals you know!”  
“Louis, you do music too? We could be a boyband!” Niall exclaims, throwing his arms up in the air – almost causing the neck of his guitar to knock over the mic stand.  
“Hah,” Louis says half-heartedly, blushing.  
“Well you did force him up so I might be draggin’ you with me next week! Ha! Love you guys, see ya round!” Niall says, ruffling the two boys’ hair and then walking off with his guitar.  
“Hate you,” Harry quips once they’re alone.  
“Hate you too.”  
“But I love you,”  
“Love you too.”

 

Louis follows as Harry gathers his things and gets them both a drink before walking out into the brisk autumn night. Harry has always loved this season, though in the city you don’t get much falling leaves. Maybe if they weren’t gripping hot drinks and bags, they’d be holding hands. Maybe swinging them around obnoxiously. Because they’re happy and they’re together and why not? As much grief as he’ll give Lou for this later, Harry’s thankful for that last push to perform. It felt like nothing else. He managed to perform and nobody threw tomatoes, his voice didn’t crack, and he felt on top of the world. He thinks he’ll do it again. Maybe not tomorrow but soon. With Niall. They sounded good together, harmonizing and such and if Louis ever gives in, they’d make up the dream team.

As he’s thinking, Harry turns to Louis - catching him staring – and they both giggle like children. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that they are. They both put so much pressure on themselves and get so strung out because of it that they forget how to have fun. Tonight was thrilling for both, but it was so good. 

They chat idly about Niall and his silly sayings and say store names out loud, eyebrows raising at the more interesting names and Harry feels normal. Like a teenager should feel. He feels like he could do anything and after chucking his empty cup into a nearby trash can, he cuts Louis off and faces him before doing the gentlest butterfly kiss. Because he can.

“Did you just flutter your eyelashes against mine?” Louis squeaks after stopping dead in his tracks.  
“It’s how the butterflies kiss!”  
“You’re a dork, did you know that Harry?”  
“But you love it!”  
“But I love it.”

Louis takes his chance and goes on his tip toes, looking Harry straight in the eyes. They’re sparkling. Maybe it’s the streetlights. 

“Well this is how the humans kiss,” he laughs, and pecks the taller boy on the lips lightly and he swears he falls deeper in that moment. But this pit isn’t filled with sadness it’s filled with butterflies and Louis and now Harry. Harry brushes the hair out of his face and smiles. A smile so big it looks painful, but he can’t stop.

He forgets all about his shit day at school and his agonising shift at work tomorrow and his nerves – he just lives right now because right now he doesn’t see how he could ever feel depressed when he’s more-than-friends with this young man in front of him. He’s wonderful.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?”  
“Are we at your stop already?”  
“Yes, and yes I’ll text you when I get home. Maybe I’ll text you before then if I feel like it. Maybe.”  
“Home, let me go home,” Harry sings, bopping his head to the beat he’s keeping.  
“Home is wherever I’m with you. I know. You’re really weird right now. Did you suddenly have a change of outlook after facing your fears?”  
“I’m offended! But yeah, maybe.”  
Louis pinches the humming boy’s cheek, “I’m glad. Have a good walk.”  
“Have a good life.”  
“Seriously! What has gotten into you? Please be like this always, it’s adorable.”  
“I’ll see you tomorrow! And maybe the next day. Wanna high five?”  
“Bye, Harry.”

He listens to Bastille on the way home, a band Harry has neglected because he never felt in the right mood for their music. It’s so upbeat and summery and lovely and perfect for this night.

He stays up all night writing songs and doing overdue homework and feeling invincible. He’s writing happy songs, mellow songs. Writing everything that had been backlogged while his emotions were stuck on sad. He writes songs about how Louis smells (apples and peaches, most days) and he writes songs about Niall’s laugh; how it lights up a room. He writes. He knows this feeling won’t last and that’s why he’s making the most of it. One day of pure joy is enough to keep him steady for a while.

He knows it’s really late when Louis stops replying but he’s still buzzing. He feels energized and he just hopes he doesn’t crash too hard. That’s always in the back of his mind, but not in a nagging way tonight, more like an agreement. He can have this motivation now and when he wakes up he’ll be back to usual. And for some reason, that doesn’t make him want to rip his hair out.

Whenever Harry feels like he’s getting better, he thinks of the Paramore song, Last Hope. The lyrics, ‘the salt in my wounds isn’t burning any more than it used to / it’s not that I don’t feel the pain, it’s just that I’m not afraid of hurting anymore’ really stand out.

He thinks that’s such an eloquent way of wording exactly how he feels. He still has the same problems, he’s just found different and/or better ways of ignoring and/or dealing with them. He’s not actively trying to be happy and that could be the reason he actually feels happy. Not every day, but more often. He’s not afraid of being depressed anymore, not dwelling on it.

See, he used to keep track of how often he has a bad day, cataloguing his emotions. Now he tries to focus on the good days, good things. Louis, bands like Paramore, that drink from the coffee shop on the corner of Queen, singing; good things.

The next line of the song is, ‘the blood in these veins isn’t pumping any less than it ever had and that’s the hope I have, to only thing I know is keeping me alive’. You forget that your body does everything it can to can you breathing and functioning. It’s constantly trying to keep you alive, no matter what shit goes through your head. Harry’s thoughts are racing, he can’t tell where that was going. He keeps those lyrics close to his heart and brings them out once in a while, as a reminder.

On this night he decides to write a list of things he likes, a list of things that make him happy and a list of things he’s good at. He secures it to his fridge with a magnet, so he can admire it multiple times each day. He doesn’t want to ignore those things any longer. The world is so full of amazing creations and he feels so selfish getting stuck in his own head, fretting about stupid things that don’t matter. They only matter because he lets them. He’s going to try to forget them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, as always and I can only cross my fingers that my proof-reading efforts were a success  
> P.S. I've changed my tumblr so you can now find me at heavenwithaheadache.tumblr.com xo


	12. Are We Happy Now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never thought I'd turn out to be the type of writer to leave a story hanging but here I am, about a month after I posted the last chapter. Oops? Sorry?

Louis is really glad he lives in a city that’s right on the lake. He doesn’t appreciate it enough (he doesn’t appreciate anything enough), so he decides to come down to the beach more often. He and Harry are sitting in the sand on a relatively sunny autumn day because neither of them have classes or work. A change of scenery was in order, soon enough it’ll be too cold to do things like this, be outside. The fresh air feels good on Louis’ skin, what’s showing of it. He still gets cold easily but Harry – the portable furnace – is beside him.

“I’m gonna get a tattoo soon, I think,” the plaid-clad boy says, more like a question than a statement.  
“Really. Never quite liked the idea of tattoos on me, but I imagine you’d get something nice and quirky.”  
“Quirky? Good word.”

That’s how most of the afternoon goes, a short conversation and then peaceful silence, watching the waves crash or laughing at the birds. Lou gets up to skip rocks – something he’s always been good at. Harry reaches over to the backpack he brought and lifts out a Tupperware container. He brought a snack and he will try to subtly get his friend to eat.

“I’ve got apple slices and peanut butter, if you want,” and how can Louis object? He has a soft spot for peanut butter, well, peanut butter is the cause of his soft spot. He takes some, for Harry. Feeling like he owes it to him to at least try. Especially when the dimpled boy is so patient and never gets annoyed, no matter how shaky Louis gets, no matter how visibly out of breath he is after walking a short distance.

Maybe he owes it to Harry to be honest for once instead of pretending like his efforts are wasted. Maybe if he just lies down and starts talking through everything he’s kept to himself for so long, he can pretend Harry isn’t listening. He can just let it all out.

Harry watches Louis as he nibbles, always watching. He tries to hide it, but Louis always notices. It makes him nervous but Louis knows it’s only because Harry cares. He doesn’t know why, but he’s given up arguing about it. He likes Harry. Likes watching TV with him, likes visiting him at work and listening to him sing and watching his stretch because damn, he’s lanky. He likes hearing the younger boy tell stories even though he talks extremely slow and loses his trail of though. He really likes Harry.

Louis finishes the apple slice he was working on and lies down, closing his eyes and clearing his throat.

“I’ll start at the beginning. Of everything, as far as I’m concerned. I used to be a little piece of shit in school. I hung out with the cooler kids and I acted like they did, I was mean. I didn’t think I was, but looking back – I was horrible. As soon as they ditched me I started feeling so guilty, I kept thinking about how I had made people feel, I figured people were talking about me behind my back. I could feel them judging me for what I’d done. And then they’d stare. I’d feel self-conscious, it was like they were analyzing me. I couldn’t even tell myself that they wouldn’t do that because, why wouldn’t they? I used to pick people apart for things that were merely physical. If I could be so cruel to point out things that people may have been insecure about, others would obviously see through my tough exterior, especially since I was alone with no mean gang to back me up anymore.  
I used to look at myself in the mirror and try to guess which parts of me were the worst. Which parts people could use against me. Of course, the more I looked the more I found. I thought if I could just fix everything about myself, people at school wouldn’t be able to make fun of me.  
I used to be fit, I played football a lot growing up but I stopped and then I realized that I wasn’t naturally skinny. I started filling out and getting chubbier and my daily P.E. class wasn’t enough. I thought I’d just stop eating junk, then I stopped eating carbs, then I just stopped. Everything was making me fatter and if I took up more space, more people would notice me in the hallway. I don’t know. People used to comment on my size when I was still playing football and I got used to be told I was skinny. I felt obliged to stay that way, clearly if people noticed enough to say something, it must be a good quality to have, I really don’t know. When I lived at home it was me and a bunch of girls, you know how girls can be. They saw that I was thin and they thought it was OK. I’m not saying I blame them for letting me get bad but they didn’t help. They didn’t even know.  
It’s not even about the weight anymore, I just got used to feeling empty. I’ve messed myself up so much that whenever I do eat, I feel sick. Any normal amount of food is too much. I did a bingeing thing for a while because I’d be so hungry after school and nobody else was home but that just made me feel disgusting. I couldn’t force myself to throw up, I wasn’t strong enough. So I had to stop stuffing myself, it would ruin what I’d worked so hard for.  
But I didn’t know who I was doing it for anymore. I’d become a mere speck of the outgoing character I once was. I gave up on my dreams of acting because I grew afraid of being seen. I never left my room if I could help it. I started wearing baggy clothes so it wasn’t clear where my lumps were. I actually got really into clothes, they were the easiest way to disguise myself. I got into music, losing myself to the lyrics and the drum beats. I don’t regret that. Music is a powerful thing.”

As he talks he feels lighter, lighter, lighter. Maybe those things he’d been holding in have finally been set free. He realizes now, saying it all aloud, how stupid it all is. It’s easy to convince yourself of your flaws but when he hears the whole thing coming out of his mouth, it all sounds so silly. His life really isn’t the drama he made himself believe it was. If he looks at the reality, nobody ever did anything to him. He was so paranoid that though he’d never been bullied, he assumed people would strike at any moment and he had to be as perfect as he could so all the good insults would backfire. If he wasn’t fat and he wasn’t spotty, what could they say? He tried so hard to justify why he was doing things but the truth is, he has no good reason. He just got into a habit.

Harry lays down beside his friend and puts his arm around the small boy’s shoulder. He never tried to get Louis to stop feeling fat, he just tries to get him to eat. Harry is the only one Louis knows who has ever seen past his persona. He’s been there since day 1, in person or just a text away. Harry. The boy who spilled into Louis’ life so easily, complimenting his personality in every way.

“Does it feel nice to compile a story? I get what you mean about trying to live up to other people. Everyone around me always pegged me as the happy one, like it was a fact. That was fine but then when I wasn’t feeling happy I’d feel like I was letting people down. I thought I always needed to be happy, and the more I tried the worse I felt. I lied, we lie to the people we love because we don’t want them to worry, we don’t want to hurt them. We do it because we love them, something more than we care to love ourselves.”

“Right. Just because I’ve said all this doesn’t mean I’m better, to be clear. I wish it was that easy but my relationship with food is so unhealthy and fucked up, I don’t think I can change at the drop of a pin. I’ll have to come up with a plan to work myself back up to being normal about things. Not counting, not pinching. I’m glad I have you.”

“I’ll say the same. Um, since I told you I have actually cut. Just once, but I felt really bad. It’s hard. It’s really hard to just stop completely. I’m working on it. I like having you here to hold my hand through it all.”

It sucks, but Louis isn’t surprised. Harry may have sugar-coated his struggles when explaining them, and he understands. Harry is smiling and the boy next to him can tell it’s not fake, not around him. Now not.

“I wonder if we would have been together now if we’d met at that show a few years ago. We were in such different places in our heads and it’s strange, it’s like fate. I don’t know if I believe in fate but if I did, I’d think this was fate or something like it. We met at the right time, when we were both past our lowest points. We didn’t know it but we needed each other to help move on with life. I-I really love you, you know? Like properly. Like I wanna hang out with you for the rest of my life. Like I wanna kiss you every night before I go to sleep. Like I wanna sit next to you, always. Would you like this to be official?”

Louis is a little surprised, “boyfriends?”  
“Boyfriends, best friends,” soul mates, maybe.

“Oh, I love you so much that sometimes I can’t think about anything else. I can’t think of how you could hate someone that I love. But I hate the person you love so, yeah. We shouldn’t hate anyone, hate ages you! We’re just people that happen to suffer from a distorted mindset. I wanna wake up beside you, I want you at my graduation. You and I, I can picture us travelling like we both so badly want to. I proper love you too, even if I can’t form a proper sentence. C’mere boo.”

And Louis lets Harry hug him, ‘round the waist. He cringes a little bit but a second later he can feel Harry’s heartbeat against his chest and his strong hands rubbing circles into his back, soothing. For the first time, he feels less alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life has been nuts, find me on heavenwithaheadache.tumblr.com if ya wanna xo


	13. You Can Rely On Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorr y I never uPdate

Once Harry had played that first open mic night, he’d warmed up to the idea of music being a thing he did for real. And Louis always seemed to know of a place he could play, any given night. Maybe because he was doing background research behind Harry’s back. Ever since he found Harry’s journal a few months back, he’s been emailing and calling and visiting every person and company that could possibly help make a career out of this for Harry. He convinced an employee of a small record label to come out and watch the duo sing a few songs, and tonight’s the night.

Harry is nervous. He’s always nervous when Louis brings him to these things, but this time it’s a bar. It’s loud, dark, and crowded. It’s not a coffee shop, not homely or friendly or familiar and Harry doesn’t like it. There’s got to be more than 100 people milling around and he’s never even been to a real bar before now since he doesn’t drink. It’s horrible.

Fast forward to Harry and Niall getting on stage, the gangly one shaking a little. They’ve been allotted time for 3 songs and they want to make it count, they prepared.

After the emcee introduces them, the first 2 songs go smoothly, they decided upon Niall’s ‘Over Again’ and Harry’s ‘Don’t Let Me Go’, which are some of Louis’ favourites. He’s swelling with pride for his boyfriend, like he can’t contain his emotions. He thinks the smile on his face must look ridiculous to everyone around him. When his friends begin to play the intro to their 3rd and final song, Louis tilts his head to the side, the tune unfamiliar. And then Harry starts to sing about someone drinking too much tea and freckles and holding hands and insecurity. And he knows, he won’t have to ask. He knows Harry wrote this one for him, Louis wants to sing along even though he doesn’t know the words before Harry sings them. 

Near the end Louis moves himself to the back of the crowd, not wanting anyone to see him crying. He doesn’t want to distract anyone, especially Harry, from this performance – it could be so important for his future. But he can’t stop crying. Somehow he found this guy, and he found the perfect words. He makes Louis seem so delicate, so lovely. The younger boy took his boyfriend’s worst thoughts and put them to use in one of the most heart-wrenching songs Louis thinks he’s ever heard. 

When the song finally ends, Louis decides he’s never cried so much in his entire life. He is not one to show emotions in public, in fact he hates seeing people sob in public but here he is, alone and ugly crying. He has snot running down his face, probably. He doesn’t even know what to do with his hands, he’s a wreck. Louis wants Harry to get off that stage already so he can tell him how much he loves him, so he can kiss him until neither of them can breathe.

“Thanks for listening, we’ve been uh, Niall and Harry. Goodnight!”

Harry gathers his things and pushes his way through the crowd to where he thought he saw Louis standing last. He must know if the boy liked the songs (especially a certain new one, one that possibly lays his heart out for the world to see and pick apart). He loses Niall near the exit, but he keeps moving forward.

“Harry,” Louis croaks, eyes twinkling.

“Louis!”

“That was brilliant! You guys smashed it! And that last one, it was,”  
“About you, of course! Who else? You’re everything,” Harry beams, grabbing the boy’s hand. He can tell Louis has been crying, so he wipes the wet eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. He kisses him below his eyes, tasting salt. He kisses him on the tip of his button nose, he kisses his neck. He makes contact with Louis’ life finally and right there, he feels content. There has been a weight lifted off his shoulders, he’s told Louis what he’d been dying to say. 

See, the boy may have trouble speaking but he thinks he’s a little better when he sings, If only life were a musical and his every thought could be transformed into song.

“I love you. Harry, you don’t know how wonderful you are to me. You’re so wonderful. I can’t believe you’d sing a song about my sore arse, I can’t believe you made my pathetic worries into a work of art. Someone please get the butter, I’m all corny. I love you,” Louis looks directly into his eyes, and then kisses Harry’s bottom lip, standing on his tip toes to reach. This makes him look even more elfish than usual. 

The two continue holding hands as they walk out of the bar and onward to their respective public transit stops. It’s a routine, going separate ways. It’s usually inconvenient to stay over at each other’s places if they have school or work the next day. Not that they don’t have sleepovers, they do. Those usually consist of Aaron Johnson movie marathons and both of them falling asleep in Harry’s living room, then waking up the next afternoon with aching backs and crumbs down their pajama bottoms. Since they haven’t leveled up to the more intimate aspect of a romantic relationship, this is just fine. Though Harry would love to fetch Louis the morning paper while running for breakfast at the café on his block, they aren’t there yet.

“I’ll see you tomorrow ok? I have a paper due at 11pm but I should be done before then, ideally. Just, know that what you did for me tonight was by far the nicest gesture I’ve ever received. I always dreamed of being written about, dating a musician, and having fangirls be jealous of me. In due time I’ll have the third one but I’m ecstatic to have the first two. Not that I wouldn’t like you if you built a chair for me or designed a t-shirt. I’d still be with you if you didn’t do any of this, so don’t feel obligated.”

“Most assuredly. And for the record, I didn’t write it just for you. I write for me. To get my feelings out so they don’t run rampant inside my mind. I wrote that one with Niall after begging him to help me put it down on paper so I could get back to a PowerPoint presentation I was supposed to be making,” Harry chuckles, remembering how Niall looked when he explained the situation. He’d almost been late to class because Harry refused to let him go until they’d finished the song. Hey, it turned out precisely how he wanted, so neither of them could complain. 

A lot of the song’s they’d managed to write together happened like that, a quick text in the middle of the day followed by a short cramming session before one of them had another commitment. It’s brings out the best in Harry, someone who is used to working under pressure as a procrastinator. 

Over time, the three of them have become a tight group of friends. Harry and Louis hang out more often, but Niall doesn’t mind. He has other friends, and with his personality he never feels like a third wheel. He’s so carefree; the opposite of the couple and he influences them to get out of their comfort zone. Plus, he has an amazing voice, is a pro at guitar and to top it off, writes some tunes. Obviously.

“Well now I feel silly for acting all high and mighty, you just wrote it instead of doing homework! Pity,” Louis jokes, understanding what Harry meant but wanting to take the mick out of him anyway, like he does.

They kiss goodnight, then Louis is laughing watching Harry try to maneuver his guitar case through the doors of the streetcar and failing miserably because he’s such a klutz to begin with. Louis thinks he’ll tuck that memory away into the folder in his mind titled, ‘Harry Being Dumb And Endearing’.

The next day goes by painfully slow for Louis, as he waits for a phone call from the record company. They said they’d phone, but he could never know when. Louis fidgets more than usual during his classes, waiting. He waits through Marketing, he waits through Computers, he waits the entire 2 hour break, and then he waits through Management. He waits.

He gets the call around 9:00pm, after he’s given up waiting. He is sitting in bed, halfway watching Across The Universe when the phone rings and he almost flings his laptop onto the floor when he jumps up, looking for his cell. 

“Hello?”

“Yes, hello, is this Louis?” This is Simon. He talks like a professional and is just as intimidating over the phone as Louis expected. Louis doesn’t think he can hold a proper conversation in this frame of mind.

“Y-yeah! It is.”

“Great, this is Simon Cowell. I said I’d call you to discuss your friend Harry, so this is that. First off, you must be proud that you have such talented friends. Harry and his accomplice, the blonde one, were very good. I can see a gap in the market for them, and I’d like them to come to my office on Friday, midday to talk business. Can you speak to them? I’m assuming you’re posing as a manager right now, yes?” He says, he sounds stiff and formal, but still somehow excited. Louis is feeling many things at once.

“I will tell them both as soon as I’m off talking to you, for sure. They’ll be there. Can I just thank you for doing this? I, they’ll really appreciate your generosity and look forward to meeting.”

“It’s no problem, finding new acts is what I do. I’ll get my assistant to email you the details, and I expect you with them. They need you, it sounds like. I best be going, cheers.”

“Thanks, yes, have a good day!” and just like that, Louis collapses onto his bed. He feels so relieved, like when you find out you have an extension on a project that you forgot you were supposed to be working on. Like missing a step but not falling down the stairs. He could not have planned for this to turn out better. 

He sends a group text to Harry and Niall:

**Meet me at the book store near 3rd street ASAP**

Niall texts back

**OK?**

Harry responds just as fast

**Be there in 10 xx**

Louis is glad it was a “no questions asked” result, he just needs them to get their butts over there. He bolts out of his room, nearly running into the wall before making it to his doorway, throwing on a coat, grabbing his keys and ripping the door open. After locking it, he runs down the 2 flights of stairs, something that would usually leave him panting but tonight his adrenaline gives him energy. He proceeds to take what could be the longest bus ride of his life (5 minutes in reality), feeling antsy.

When he gets to the storefront, he’s the only one there. This is to be expected, as he lives closest. He picked this place in particular because it was a good halfway point, and the three of them had met there multiple times before.

Niall’s platinum hair becomes visible in the distance and Louis starts waving frantically, “hey Nialler! How’s your day been?”

“Good, some girl in my theory class hit on me!” This is typical Niall, going on about everything as if it were the best thing that could happen. He’s always so cheerful, it baffles Louis every time. Louis may be a little more pessimistic than most, but Niall is abnormally happy. All the time. Including this moment.

“Did you pull her? What could she possibly find attractive about you when you’re studying the most aggravating subject in history?” Louis has experience with theory lessons from his day taking piano as a child and he’ll tell you that it sucked.

“I don’t know! I just sighed really loudly and then talked some crap about how music didn’t make sense and she said ‘I don’t get it either’, I had to tell her to stop flirting with me so I could focus on me work and then she claimed I wasn’t her type! What a laugh,” 

“You idiot, how does this keep happening to you!”

“How does what keep happening?” Louis and Niall turn around to see Harry, dressed in an oversized jumper and his favourite ripped jeans, looking amused. Louis answers, “Niall got shut down by yet another girl. Same old, same old. How’re ya?”

“A bit speculative as to why you’ve asked us to come here, to be honest.”

“Oh yeah! I have some crazy news, you’re meeting with a record company on Friday to discuss a possible signing and/or contract! I set up the open mic thing last night so that some honcho man could hear you two and he liked it! Isn’t this the best thing to ever happen?” Louis is almost shouting, unable to control his joy.

“What?” Niall jumps on Louis, and Harry then joins in to make it a hug – making Louis a little uncomfortable but he deals with it for the occasion. It’s a special day, the start of something big for these two friends.

“Seriously what? You’re not joking?”

“Not a word of a lie. We’re going Friday at noonish, I’m going to be your stand-in manager! You’re gonna be huge!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was garbage I simplified the whole thing so much I just needed things to happen like NOW ~talk to me on tumblr (tell me to step my game up and stop ruining what could have been a good fic lol) heavenwithaheadache.tumblr.com xo


	14. Skin & Bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this could be triggering so please don't read if it'll make you feel horrid etc I don't want anyone triggered

The timeline is a mess for Louis. He thought he had periods of being OK with weight and food and control, but looking back he can’t remember the last time he could just eat when he was hungry and stop. He had a major sweet tooth and just liked all food generally. Not anymore. After a short period in which he binged on accident, his favourite foods just don’t taste the same. And everything just went to crap.

The first time Louis tried to make himself throw up he couldn’t do it. He paced around the bathroom in his childhood home breathing heavily but he just couldn’t do it. He fixed his hair and walked back to his room, feeling disgusting.

The second time Louis tried to make himself throw up, he actually got on the ground in front of the toilet and got his fingers in his mouth. There was a lot of saliva and his eyes watered but he couldn’t do it. He washed his hands and returned to his room.

The third time, he got himself a toothbrush, he thought that would make it easier. He couldn’t do it.

After 7 tries, Louis gave up on the idea of getting all the food out of his body. That’s when he stopped eating those triggering foods. That’s when he stopped eating most things. He felt shitty not eating, but had felt shittier stuffing himself and then not being able to throw up. That’s where that started.

At school he feels extremely out of place. Everyone he’s talked to loved their university experience and said it helped them meet so many new people and become more social but it has forced Louis even farther back into his shell. Studying business is so boring. He expected it to be boring but he wanted the program to prove him wrong, but it is just boring. He has to do group work in almost every class and that is not what Louis signed up for. He chose an entrepreneurship program because he liked being alone and having control and being in a group for multiple assignments is not any of that. He can never get a point across because he has a small voice and everyone gets so carried away with huge ideas that they’ll never be able to accomplish or they get distracted or they do not contribute at all and it’s frustrating. They’re in groups to make the assignments “easier” because they are worth a lot of marks but Louis has a feeling his group is going to bomb all of their presentations.

The other part about school that Louis hates is the hallways. Everyone walks so slowly and he likes to walk fast to give people less time to stare and judge and notice him. And the school day is so long, he’s always starving in class and even if he wasn’t broke, he wouldn’t eat. He simply tries to get through every day without falling asleep or falling over, luky it’s his last year before he graduates. To move on to “bigger and better” things. Louis believes that they will in fact probably be different, and he prays that they’ll be better but he can’t say the same about bigger. People tell themselves that because they want to feel like they’re crossing things off a checklist. Middle school is “bigger and better” than elementary school and high school is “bigger and better” than middle school and so on. It’s different. People say college is a community and everyone is accepting but that’s just because nobody boasts about things being exclusive and clique-y, right? College is no huge change from high school, it’s a larger building with more people stuffed into it. Louis is just grateful that he can slip under the radar. He’s been coasting now for 3 years. Hell, he’s been coasting since 9th grade, when he stopped caring.

Louis missed when he was younger and classes were smaller and he had more friends, but when he looks back he can see what a huge dick he was when he did have friends. He did really stupid things. He wasn’t nice, he was a lot like the people he now hates. He’s ashamed. It seems like a lifetime ago, he wonders why he ever hung out with that crowd. More importantly, he wonders where all that confidence went. He used to be able to talk to people, start conversation. Maybe it’s true what they say about all bullies being cowards, because as soon as Louis stopped being a prick, he started feeling insecure.

Maybe he assumes that people talk behind his back because he used to do that. Maybe because he spent so long picking out the flaws in other people, he has been able to pinpoint his own. And surely if he can see them, it makes sense that everyone else can, too. Maybe he wants to be nice to people because he used to have backstabbing friends and he learned not to fully trust anyone. He knows how it feels to have friends that make you feel like shit. Like you’re a pity guest. He was always part of the group, but not really. He never got invited to the “cool” parties and while that was fine with him because he didn’t really love the idea of hanging out in large groups, he still would have liked to be invited. He would have liked to have made the choice to skip the party

Louis had been trying to figure out how to explain all of this to Harry, but he hasn’t found the right phrasing yet. He admitted a lot that day on the beach, but not enough. He always tells people he doesn’t know why he is like he is, but he has a hunch.

He really needs to listen to some really angsty, old Marianas Trench stuff to make him feel better most of the time. It’s a classic pick-me-up.

He takes the subway home, as usual and stares at the floor for the entire ride.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Things for H&L are going pretty smooth, until Louis comes home one Tuesday afternoon to a note on his apartment door. He’s in trouble. He racks his brain for reasons why he’d be in hot water, he doesn’t make a lot of noise, he hasn’t damaged anything, and he never sets the fire alarm off… He knows he was a little late paying his rent last month, and every month before that but he does pay eventually. At least he thinks he paid in full by now. Right?

He hears a knocking at his door, “Louis? Are you home?” that’s not the voice of one of his usual guests. That’s the husky Texan accent of his landlord. He opens the door immediately, as he hadn’t yet gotten past the front hall anyway, “yes I am, everything alright?”

“Unfortunately for you, this space is now classified as an empty apartment and we’re looking for new renters starting as soon as the start of next month.”

“Huh?”

“We gave you many chances to get your payments back on track, it states in your lease that you must pay on the 6th of each month and you’ve failed to do that for 10 months in a row. I do not put up with these sorts of situations, you should probably start packing your things.”

“I’m being evicted?” Louis doesn’t know what to say, it’s not like he can argue that he did pay but he can’t be homeless. It’s hard to wrap his head around it all at once.

“Yes. Please be out of the building for good by the 1st. I’m sorry for the short notice, well, I’m not because I did try to call you a few times and I never got through. I had no choice,” and then he leaves. Louis can barely even breathe. This cannot be happening.

His first instinct is to start pulling his clothes out of his closet, emptying the cabinets. He doesn’t have any boxes or suitcases to put anything in, he doesn’t have a storage unit. He doesn’t even have a place to go! He can’t go home, it’s too far away from school. Shit. Shit, how did he let this happen? Why couldn’t he be more organised and remember to pay his bills? Why does he have to work a shitty minimum wage job that barely gives him any hours? Why is he all alone, laying in a bed without sheets, broke, starving, and soon-to-be homeless?

His phone rings, he sighs deeply and clears his throat before answering, “hi?”

“It’s Harry. I know I told you I’ve never call you but I’ve been texting you for hours and you haven’t responded and I know you finished class a long time ago. Sorry if I am being paranoid but I got really worried. Are you okay?”

“In physical terms, yes. I’m not hurt, I haven’t been kidnapped. I did just get an eviction notice, so I’ve been in bed, angry crying since 5:00.”

“I’m coming over,” and then he hangs up. People are so abrupt today. Did Louis lock the door? If not, he can just stay where he is and get Harry to let himself in. He’d rather not have to move right now, or maybe ever again.

A short while after the phone call, there’s a knock at his front door, “come in. I don’t think I locked it,” followed by the sound of his door opening, thankfully, and the sound of footsteps getting closer and closer to Louis. Harry doesn’t say anything, he just climbs into Louis’ bed and lays on his side so they’re face to face. “’M sorry you got kicked out.”

“I’m sorry too.” Harry can tell Louis is holding back his emotions, though it’s obvious he’s extremely upset. The tear stains on his cheeks and the watery sound in his voice give it all away. He’s hesitant to reach out, so he’s glad when Louis makes the first move, running a hand through his curly hair.

“What am I going to do? I don’t have an apartment to live in.” He sounds defeated, like he’s already given up hope on making today any better. Harry wants to make the grand gesture, to invite him to live in his apartment where they can have late-night pillow-talk in person. He’s scared, that’s a commitment and Louis makes it clear that he likes his space. He can’t just let his boyfriend go without a roof, though.

“You could sleep on my couch, while you look for a new place? How much time do you have?”

“I couldn’t. I don’t want to impose. I have about a week and a half,” Louis declines, “and then they have a new tenant.” He’s still playing with Harry’s hair, but he’s not looking at him anymore. He’s embarrassed.

“You won’t be imposing if I’m asking you to stay.”

“You’re just inviting me because you feel bad for me for being such a failure.”

“Only half true,” and that’s the end of that discussion. Harry’s settled that he’ll tell Louis to bring his things over on the 30th, and though he’s terrified to be living with someone he knows they’ll make it work.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blah blah blah this wasn't even good i never update. same old story and excuses. i think i'm gonna write a couple more chapters and then end this??? is anyone reading? idk. this was kind of 2 short chapters pasted together to make a longer chapter to make up for me being shit i think. heavenwithaheadache.tumblr.com  
> p.s. if louis' fix me song is skin & bones, harry's is definitely say anything. i'm havin a moment ignore.


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